To New York With Love
by 2NYwLove
Summary: The third Gus Broussard installment, follow what happens in Season 6 after Don falls apart and Gus is on loan to the NOPD. Will they finally put to rest all the ghosts that have been haunting them? Told through a mix of correspondence and traditional writing. FlackOC
1. Take Me Back to New Orleans

**Chapter 1: Recap of NOLA Rising-Saints, Gus intro**

For those of you just tuning in but who might not want to go back and read all of _NOLA Rising_ or _Saint's Aren't Coming_, I have this handy little recap of who Gus is and some of her world.

Claire Taylor had a son, so isn't it feasible she has a niece as well? Meet Augusta Broussard, niece of Claire (and ergo Mac). Claire and Mac started dating when Augusta (aka Gus, though Mac calls her by her full name when he is irked or Gussie for affection purposes) was 14. This was not too long after Gus' parents were murdered in New Orleans (where her father was a NOPD detective). Gus walked in after school to find Christmas cookies burning and her mother bleeding out on the floor. Their murder remains mostly unsolved, but the NOPD admits their murder was related to a case her father was working.

Claire wanted Gus to join her in Chicago, but she remained in NOLA at boarding school (and later college and grad school). A bit of a wild child through HS, she graduates early because the nuns of the Sacred Heart wanted rid of her. She settles down in college (all her oats sowed so to speak), volunteering abroad and in the inner city of NOLA. She connected with many of the children she worked with because of her own traumatic background, but was also exposed to some pretty gruesome things.

Because of this, she earns her Counseling PsyD with a concentration in criminal justice/trauma. In order to make ends meet, she works both sides: with prisoners and also with cops. Her father's old partner, now Chief of Detectives, keeps trying to get her to join the NOPD but trying to hold true to her father's maxim of "never be a cop, never date a cop", she goes through qualifications and training but never officially joins the force. Her work with both cops and criminals is a point of contention with her fiancée, an Uptown trust fund kid turned high-priced attorney (Gage).

Gage is pretty verbally abusive, but Gus is desperate for the old family roots his family can offer, so she takes it (never having felt like she belonged). That is until a couple of days before Hurricane Katrina makes landfall in NOLA and she refuses to evacuate with Gage, choosing to stay behind at Orleans Parish Prison, resulting in his abuse turning physical and their break-up.

Katrina batters NOLA and anarchy ensues and really bad things happen (we don't even know them all yet). Out of desperation, when the National Guard tries to forcibly evacuate her to Utah, she calls her Uncle (Mac Taylor) in New York. She and Mac had an arm's length relationship for the first few years Mac and Claire were together which grew into a more affectionate one as she grew older (she spent school breaks with Claire). Their relationship faded after 9/11 and Claire's death. Mac still yearns for connection to Claire through Gus, especially since 4 years have passed since Claire's death. He brings her up to NY, though she quickly leaves to return to do crisis counseling to first responders until a second hurricane threatens NOLA. Realizing she is as broken and battered as her beloved city, she makes the decision to relocate to NYC.

Mac gets her a job doing psych evals for NYPD, but thinks she should listen to her father's old partner and become a detective because of her considerable empathic and profiling skills. She eventually agrees, though she feels that she is betraying her father. She qualifies with help from the entire team, while garnering attention from a certain blue-eyed detective she is often partnered with. Despite mutual attraction, Gus is still dealing with the fallout from Katrina and Gage, not to mention wanting to adhere to at least part of her father's wishes.

She finally gives into the love Don can offer her, especially after going through so much together (basically seasons 2-4), though this takes forever. Don proposes to her right before the raid on the warehouse in Snow Day and she initially accepts, but when things go sideways, she blames herself for being both a cop and dating one (can you say issues?). Gus runs back "home" to NOLA shipping her badge and gun back to the precinct and breaking Don's heart. (This is where NOLA Rising ends)

(Where Saints Aren't Coming starts in Season 5) She spends a long hot summer in NOLA, clocking over 1300 hours on the rampant post-hurricane crime and trying to avoid her NY life though many bad choices. Her best friend from NOLA (William Brooks the III, who she calls T-B and went to school with from preK-8th grade) finally sends her packing back to NY. She returns with her tail between her legs, but since her boss isn't so happy with her, she has to bounce around from department to department, working mainly on cold cases. She desperately realizes she made a mistake in leaving, but can't get things back on track with Don, both of them being stubborn. Her relationship with the team is also somewhat strained, especially between her and Stella, though Stella did help her get her NYPD job back while Mac was in London. Lindsay and Adam are the first to welcome her back and in fact, Gus spends a lot of time that summer in NOLA on the phone with Adam helping him through his trauma recovery.

Tensions mount in homicide with Gus and Don, so Gus accepts an undercover assignment in Special Vics (under the command of another OC, Jimmy Doyle). She is injured pretty severely while undercover working a sex trafficking case and spends a lot of time in the hospital, feeling further and further disconnected from the team. Adam is her most loyal friend from the team in this time period, though they did have to navigate him having a crush on her. Don and Gus are still doing a will they or won't they dance, but her sort of maybe budding relationship with Doyle and Don's connection/relationship with Jess Angell complicates things further.

When finally back at work on modified duty, Gus throws herself into Cold Cases, partly because of her parents own unsolved case. She finally is put back on active duty, but is forced to rotate partners. Right before a rotation of her being partnered with Angell, Gus gets drunk and sleeps with Doyle. Waking up in his place the next morning and realizing she is late for a prisoner transport, he makes her wear his vest, feeling guilty for her being injured under his command. When the shoot out happens in the diner, Gus is barely injured because of the vest while Jess dies (end Season 5).

Gus doesn't handle the guilt well or the back to back traumas of her undercover assignment or the shootings. Self-destructing, she is caught in a dark place. Gus is desperate to connect with Don however she can, even if it means only drunken hook ups as he tries to forget Jess and killing Cade. She still loves him, never stopped, but can't forgive herself for running away from him and his proposal. Gus still can't believe she is allowed happiness and still feels like there is a lot she must atone for. The team wants to save them both, but can't get through to either of them. Mac finally convinces Gus if she really loves Don, she needs to separate herself from him. Knowing she is not strong enough to not come running back to him when he calls, or following him to make sure he doesn't get into trouble, she goes to her Captain who arranges for a temporary exchange program with the NOPD to help with their cold cases and still recovering evidence system (around episode 6x08).

Gus character sketch:

DOB: 12/26/1979 Key ages/dates: Parents killed right before her 13th birthday (Claire started dating Mac within a year of that). Graduated high school early, earns her doctorate in May 2004. Relocates to NYC September 2005

Height 5'8"ish

Weight: varies, when she is happy and healthy she is curvy and athletic, maybe even a little "thick" by NYC standards (tagline: sugar, I'm N'Awlins skinny) but when not she doesn't eat and drinks a lot and loses weight rapidly (looking haunted)

Appearance: Willowy, golden blonde hair that is wavy/unruly, green eyes. Face claims: a combo of Hilliarie Burton, Briana Brown and Alania Huffman.

Mannerisms: Southern belle with a short fuse

Traits: fiercely loyal, forgives too much and too easy (except of herself), empathetic, emotional sponge, believes in karma/mojo/voodoo, quick to anger but lets it go, lots of unresolved issues including guilt and self-blame, believes she is cursed somehow.

If you want to know more or are confused, but don't have the time to go read my epic tomes, feel free to PM me or email me at madisonbnola at gmail dot com with any questions.

Also note, I am writing this and doing some edits on NOLA Rising. I was going back and was ashamed of my errors, Mary Sue tendencies and canon discrepancies. As always, I am not TPTB, I am not making any money off this, it is all for fun and I am not copyrighting infringing on purpose.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Take Me Back to New Orleans**

_A/N: And so it begins, the journey of healing for both Don and Gus, though it won't be easy because that wouldn't be fun...Spoilers for Season 6, of course. This is still around 608._

Gus sat on the plane, driving her seatmate insane with her constant scratching out of lines and crumpling up paper. She had kept the flight attendants busy picking up her trash and bringing her drinks. She only had three hours to get all these letters written trying to explain her seemingly abrupt departure to everyone and ensure they knew how guilty she felt being such a horrible friend these past few months. Normally she had no problem with words, her emotions easy to put down on paper, but now it seemed like there was so much more on the line. Her awful parting with Don didn't help things either. She didn't know if he would ever forgive her for leaving again, if he could only see that it was the best thing for them both...

She shook her head, finishing her letter to Adam, sealing the envelope before she could change her mind. She added it to the pile with the ones for Danny, Stella and Sheldon. At least she didn't have to write one to Mac and Lindsay would probably be the first to forgive her and write back, assuming Lucy gave her the time. Gus wondered if she should write to Jimmy, not only because she wanted to keep her option of transferring to Special Victims on the table, but also because he was at the very least turning into a good friend, something she needed more now than ever. Her decision was made for her as the Captain put on the fasten seat belt sign for their final descent.

Gus peered out the window, once again struck by how different the landscaped looked below her, the city quickly giving way to the swamp, a stark contrast from the sprawl of New York. Time had both marched on and stopped in the city that care forgot, or so Gus thought as she spied blue tarps and new construction below her.

Billy was waiting for her, blocking the path of egress of people exiting the terminal. He still had enough of a SWAT stance that people didn't fight him, though he had left that life behind; opening a club in the French Quarter and a bar Uptown. He enveloped her in the kind of hugs they just didn't give up North, swinging her around. "Sugar you are lighter than a Tulane Tri-Delt, good Lord, are they starving you in New York?" he exclaimed as he set her down.

"I'm fine, Tibs, probably could have stood to lose a couple of pounds," Gus said with a laugh, struck by the humidity weighing down the air even inside the airport.

"That is more than a couple, but don't worry, Buela has cooked up a storm since I told her you were coming. She also cleaned out the magnolia room for you."

"TB, I told you, this is an official temporary transfer, I will be staying at Detective Prioleaux's place and he will stay at mine, by the book, above-board."

He just laughed as he walked toward baggage claim, "you've been up in the Big Apple too long, darling, if you think anything is by the book and above-board here. You forget your last visit here? Besides, I drove past that lean-to Prioleaux stay at, and no friend of mine is staying in that hovel. I swear termites holding hands are the only thing keeping it upright. Not to mention it is in a rather unsavory part of town."

"You been away from SWAT for too long? I am a cop, remember, have gun, will shoot," Gus said, waiting on her bags to come around.

"Don't argue with me, missy, you'll see and you will be right back at Chez Brooks where you belong. And stop with that T-B nonsense, I am a grown man and a business owner at that. I go by my proper name now."

"Fine, whatever you say William Henri Brooks the Third. That better?" Gus teased, wiping sweat off her brow. It was hotter in November than she remembered.

He shot her a look, "Billy will do just fine, now hand me one of your bags, woman, we are gentlemen here, you know."

"Lord you sound like Jimmy Doyle," she quipped.

His eyebrows shot up, "you will be telling me all about this Doyle character, as soon as we get you settled in."

Gus knew better than to argue, her friend was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something. "Fine, fine, T-Billy, but I just need to find a mailbox first."

"A mailbox, you do know this is 2009, right? Have these things called computers and the internet," Billy replied, wheeling her bag toward the exit.

"Hush your mouth, Billy Brooks, your mama raised you better than that," she replied, following him, the express envelopes already in her hand.

TB, Billy, Gus forcibly corrected herself was right, Prioleaux's shotgun house had seen better days and the Central City location hadn't improved much since the hurricane. While she could stay there, and part of her even thought maybe she should, Gus finally admitted it might be better for her to stay on Audubon Park in the familiar comfort of the graceful Brooks home. Billy gave an inward sigh of relief at this, Augusta's uncle had made it very clear that she needed someone watching over her, even if the intimidating Marine turned cop was more than a little sparse on the details of why. Billy knew Gus would come out with the whole tale in her own time, with the help of a few mint julep.

Billy dropped her bags in the guest suite named for its magnolia patterned wallpaper. "Here you go, home sweet home for the next six months," he chipped, trying to get a smile out of his petulant looking friend. When that didn't work, he cleared his throat, "well I will let you get freshened up and changed for dinner."

"Seriously, Billy?" Gus replied, shocked at how her friend still clung to fine uptown traditions.

"Well Mother is coming for dinner and you know how Miss Loretta can get and she hasn't seen you in over a year and we can't have you looking like something the cat dragged in."

Gus absorbed this, nodding resignedly in agreement before she caught up with what Billy was saying. "What do you mean coming for dinner?"

"From Poydras House. Mother decided to go there full time with the stairs and all ever since her big fall with the stroke. She's been there since late May." Billy looked at her like she was crazy.

Gus dropped on the bed, faintly remembering his frantic phone call a couple of days after the diner and bar shootings. She had been out of it, hopped up on the sedatives they forced upon her in the ER, a prescription she vaguely remembered Jimmy Doyle dropping off for her after Jess' funeral. Guilt weighed down upon her, she had been a horrible friend to everyone in her life. She had been a zombie when she was in New Orleans last, something she apparently had carried back with her to New York. That all had to stop now. If she had any hope of healing herself and getting Don back, she had to start living again. "Sorry, Billy, I must be a bit jet lagged. You are correct, need to pretty up for Miss Loretta. I will be down before cocktails," she said, rising and giving her friend a hug. "Thank you for being there, Tibs, you are a great friend."

"Anytime, sugar bug," he said, returning the squeeze.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Dear Mac, Love Gussie**

After a quick shower and slipping on one of the few dresses she packed, Gus towel dried her hair and sat at the antique desk under the eaves of her room, staring out at the grand oaks in the park. She forced herself to stop chewing on the end of the pen, wincing at the teethmarks she had already made in the soft silver. Taking a deep breath, she put the pen to the paper and began to write:

_Dear Uncle Mac,_

_I know you just dropped me off this morning and you still think this letter writing project is ridiculous, but I know you will humor me, you've done so for most of my life. I just wanted to thank you, truly and sincerely for supporting me. Something you have done since the day Claire introduced you to me. I know I was a wild child refusing to be tamed (as much as any straight-A boarding school Catholic girl can be at least) for your early years with Ti Claire, but neither of you ever gave up on me. You offered support and love to a kid that you didn't have to have any responsibility for. You both could have ignored me, creating a life in Chicago and then New York, never sending more than a birthday card. But you didn't, because that is the kind of man you are. A man of honor and integrity, bravery and loyalty. A man like my father, even if I didn't realize it until well after his murder. A man like the kind of man I want to be with. I probably should have figured that out years ago, would have avoided lots of disastrous relationship choices. Thank God for Katrina so I didn't end up marrying Gage._

_A bigger thank you to you for getting me out of here then, when I never would have left on my own. I know we hadn't really talked for years before that fateful August day (not since that fateful September day, I suppose). But you were there for me, like always, ready and willing to accept me into your life even though you had no real obligation to. You made me part of your family, in all its many forms. You have supported me even when not agreeing with my crazy notions and wild choices, I like to think the good in me (what remains of it, at least) is there because of you. The rest of it, well, I am working on shedding that skin, hoping to leave it here in the swamp, were it can sink to the bottom and be reborn as something useful. As much as you have taken care of me, I want you to take care of yourself. Open yourself up again, Uncle Mac. Accept love into your life, you deserve it. I know, I can see you shaking your head, I am one to talk. But you really do deserve it, don't get lost in giving yourself up to others, you deserve happiness and light and everything that comes with it. I hope you find it. Look at me being all schmaltzy, must be the humidity. Seriously, how did I forget how hot and wet it frigging is here? I mean obviously, these are water stains on this paper, because I, Augusta Broussard, would never get weepy writing a letter._

_In addition to taking care of yourself, could you please watch over Don? There is more going on with him than I have let on, though I am sure you have your Mac sense about him. He deserves happiness as well, more than I ever will, more than I could ever give. Even though I want to be able to. I want to be the kind of woman that can give him all that he deserves. He is like you in so many ways: strong, honorable, loyal, handsome, intelligent, brave and so much more that can't be described in empty adjectives. I know you know I love him, you said it yourself, you knew before I did. I do, I love him with all my being, I just don't know if we can ever get to the point where he loves me again, I crushed him by leaving and I can't help but blame myself for his current state, he might not have crumbled, if I hadn't destroyed his foundation. So I beg you, watch over him and most of all, forgive him, help him to forgive himself. Spread your light to his darkness, and hopefully in a few months, I can be his flambeaux. If he'll have me, that is._

_Alright, I need to get ready for dinner, a spread of all those foods that terrify you so. Didn't I try to teach you to never ask what is in your food down here in the bayou? I love you Uncle Mac, and will never be able to thank you or repay you for the kindness and goodness you have given me._

_Love from New Orleans,_

_Gussie_

Gus wiped her eyes, glad she had not applied make-up yet, and finished getting ready to head down to a proper welcome dinner.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dear Don, With All My Heart**

"Augusta, you're looking..." Loretta trailed off, taking in Gus' appearance. The young woman had put on a dress and makeup and had tried to tame her waves in the humidity, but she really looked a shell of her former self. Of course, Loretta wasn't feeling as though she was a blooming camellia anymore these days either, but she was nearing seventy and still recovering from that awful incident in late spring. She wasn't sure what was going on with the pretty but tired looking blonde sitting at the dining room table. Billy hadn't talked much of her as of late, she had begun to wonder if they had a falling out or if the North had stolen another daughter of the South. "You've lost weight," she finally said, it sounding exactly like the non-compliment it was.

"Mother, please," Billy chastised, "you can clearly see she had lost none of her pluck," Billy said, pouring Gus more wine.

"It's fine, Billy. You are right, Miss Loretta, I have lost weight. I haven't been taking too good of care of myself lately, but I am sure Buela is already planning on how to fatten me up," Gus said with a smile in Buela's direction. The elderly woman stout as ever as she cleared the salad plates.

"Yeah you right, Miss Gussie, I have to get some meat back on them bones of yours for sure. Oh and here, this blasted thing has been buzzing like a yellow jacket for hours. Couldn't figure out where it was coming from, thought maybe termites were chewing on the front hall until I found it in your jacket." She placed Gus' phone beside her plate, Gus was tempted to look at it, but the look from Loretta told her otherwise. She slipped it under the napkin on her lap, even though curiosity was burning a hole straight through it.

Dinner finished, and while Gus was slightly concerned over Loretta turning down after dinner drinks, she was relieved when the older woman explained, "it is bridge night at Poydras and they fall apart when I am not there. Take care of yourself, dear, and I am so glad you are back home," she said, her frail frame giving Gus a shockingly tight squeeze.

Gus didn't have the heart to tell the woman that she was nearly positive that New York was her home now and this was really nothing more than an extended working vacation.

Billy took his mother back to the extended care facility nicer than most people's homes in the city, stating he was going to check on the bar before coming back, Gus was sure he didn't need to but was just trying to give her a moment of peace and quiet.

She didn't get one however, checking the various modes of communication her cell phone offered up the first moment she had to check it. A variety of calls and texts from Stella, Daddino, Parker and even Lafferty trying to ascertain where Don was and if she was planning on coming in or not. Lafferty pissed because he had to come in to cover Flack on his day off. Daddino seemed curious if Don had followed her to New Orleans, and Gus would have laughed at the idea if her Captan hadn't seemed so concerned. A later call from Danny wanting to know if she knew where Don kept his off-duty revolver chilled her to her core, despite the warm heat enveloping her on the wide porch she was sitting on while checking her messages.

Adam had sent her a variety of texts, causing Gus to interpret that Stella and Mac had asked him to trace Don's phone and he was worried his earlier tracking for her would be discovered. Lindsay and Sheldon both contacted her to let her know the Compass Killer seemed to have struck again and was wondering if she was planning on coming back from her impromptu vacation to help them set up a profile. Mac had apparently been his usual non-forthcoming self in his explanation for her absence. Gus was quickly agreeing with him that maybe she should have explained her temporary transfer to the team before getting on the plane. She could only imagine how Detective Piroleaux was getting on. His voice mail told her not very well, his accent getting thicker the more agitated he became as he rambled on about what kind of 'shit show' he had been thrown into. He did compliment her on her apartment, warning her that his place might not be up to her princess standards. Gus rolled her eyes, thinking the detective would get along just fine with the jerks in the pit. What worried her the most was that she hadn't received anything from either Don or Mac, the two people who knew where she was, the two people she cared about the most. The silence from that end was almost more than she could bear. Her calls to them both went straight to voice mail, leaving her with a heavy heart as she finally climbed the stairs to bed.

Unable to sleep, Gus decided she may as well try to reach out to Don. At least on paper, she would never know if he refused her.

_Dear Don,_

_I hope you are OK, I mean, alive at least. I know neither of us is OK. I figured something must have happened, something big and bad judging by the phone calls and texts I have gotten today. Daddino actually called to see if you had followed me here. I almost had to laugh at that one, if I wasn't so worried. You didn't come after me when you loved me, after you had proposed to me, how could he possibly think you had come after me now, when you hate me? Not that I blame you, I hate me too. I know everyone sees me as just running away again, that Gus, she can't face her problems. Maybe there is some truth to that, but I am really hoping there is more truth in the old adage of absence and the heart. I really do hope that one day we can work things out between us, that we can forgive each other and ourselves and pick something back up. I know there is so much between us and that, so much polluted water under the bridge, but I still love you more than I have ever loved anyone or thing and I hope that deep down you have held on to a little piece of your love for me._

_Where are you, Don? What trouble have you gotten yourself into without me there? I know I wasn't really helping you by being your safety net, but at least I knew where you were, even if it was breaking me. I hope you found someone there for you, just as I hope you know how much everyone is worried about you, how much we all care for you. I know Mac sees you like a son, and even though it is hard for me to admit, he does know what he is talking about most of the time. You should listen to him._

_I hate the way we left things. That has a lot bigger meaning now that I put those words on paper. I hate the way we left things the last time I left town. I kick myself every damn day about slipping that ring into your pocket and running away. At the time, things were crazy and I blamed myself for Adam and Danny getting hurt and the lab getting blown up and thinking Mac had been blown up with it. You see, there will always be a part of me that thinks I am cursed, that if I allow myself any happiness, that it will quickly be squashed. Having your parents and friends and aunt and everyone you ever loved die will do that to you. In my mind, a happy Gus means bad things happen to others. I have been more than willing to bear that cross, take on the pain to let others live a happy life. And then you came along, with your house plant and sarcasm and gorgeous blue eyes and damn dimples. I know how much of a wreck you thought I was when I came to town, how much of a mess you know I still am. Yet still you persisted, and I have probably been in love with you since that first barely there kiss on the roof that New Year's Eve, even though it took me so long to admit it. You made me a better person, Don Flack, a whole person who was for once truly alive. And I threw that away out of fear and superstition. You reap what you sow, they say, and now here I am surrounded by barren fields. I know I deserve it, and then some. That doesn't stop me from loving you or my heart aching for you or desperately wanting you to give me one more chance even though I know I don't deserve one._

_Maybe that will change, maybe it won't, what I do know is that I couldn't stay in New York watching you drink yourself to death, or wallowing with you. I love you too much for that. I had to leave and I am not running away this time. I am facing my demons and I will conquer them. I can only hope you are doing the same and not dead in a ditch somewhere. Yes, I know there are no ditches in New York, cut me some slack, I've already been re-Southernized. I blame the humidity. Just be safe, Don, get better and know that my love might not be the best love out there, but it is all I have for you and I always will._

_With all my heart,_

_Gus_


	2. Lab Rats and emails

**Chapter 5: Love from New York, Lindsey**

Gus cracked a smile as she slid the letter opener into the flap, carefully slicing into the paper. She knew Lindsay would be the first she heard from, the envelope arriving only a few days after her arrival. Of course, her friend had already emailed and called upon receiving Gus' letter explaining why she had disappeared, though the call was short by a flurry of activity on the Eckhart case.

_Dear Gus,_

_I cannot believe you disappeared to New Orleans again! And without telling me! I would be angry, but I know why you had to go and at least it is only temporary this time. It is temporary, right? I know you have only been gone a couple of days but boy have you already missed a lot. I am not sure entirely what happened, Danny has been so tight-lipped about it he is practically Mac but something obviously went down with Flack. He didn't show up for work and when he did come back, he looked more than a little worse for the wear. That is saying a lot, considering both of you have been like zombies since Jess died. Which is why I know you had to go. I do have to say that detective they sent up here has caused a stir. Nobody can understand half of what he says, but he is some nice eye candy for the office girls. Don't you dare tell Messer I said that!_

_I am still confused about why you want letters and we can't just email you or call you. Whatever, I am going to do that too, but since Mac threw these envelopes at me, I guess I shouldn't let them go to waste. I can't promise my dear husband will use them though, and if he accidentally mails any of our bills to you, feel free to pay them. :) Danny has practically moved into the lab with this Compass Killer case, we finally at least identified the guy and it is high-profile enough that I was able to pick up some extra shifts. The one good thing about Lucy growing so fast is I don't feel as guilty leaving her with the nanny._

_I gotta go, the video spectral comparator finally came up with something I have been working on. Hoping to figure out who Eckert's last victim is. My work is never done. Of course I am sure you will be busy down there, I know this isn't a vacation. Speaking of vacations, maybe we cam have a Messer Family vacation down there. As if I could ever get Danny to leave the tri-State area, that one time in Montana may have been my only chance to see him outside of the city! One day, I will have him on a horse …_

_Best of luck down there and don't forget about us here in the Big Apple. Oh and don't think I have forgotten you owe me the biggest girl's night ever._

_Love from New York,_

_Lindsay_

Gus couldn't help but chuckle as she slid the letter back in the envelope, stuffing it in her tote back before she met up with Lieutenant Colston to report for her first day of LEEP duty.

She stared up at Tulane and Broad, trying to fight back the memories of that last time she had been here. When here the summer before, she was to active duty in precincts, so she hadn't had cause to come back to the sprawling justice complex. Gus shook off the dread she felt down in her bones, forcing herself to look beyond those horrible few days in 2005. She was here to move on, to heal, to get back to being her best self and that started now.

Lieutenant Colston was waiting for her in the lobby. "Detective Broussard?" he asked, as soon as she stepped in. Gus nodded, sticking out her hand in greeting. "Thank you for agreeing to this. I inherited one hell of a mess in homicide, and that is just active cases. We got a huge grant to deal with the back log of evidence, but most of it is such a mess nobody knows where to start. I am hoping your system and knowledge of more than one Police Department will be an asset."

"And here I thought I just wanted a place where I could drink on the clock," Gus said, instantly regretting her joke when she saw Colston's expression. "I am sorry, sir, bad joke. I suppose I should be up front. I have been dealing with some things in New York, personally and professionally and this is a break for me, but not a vacation. I will work hard and as my uncle likes to say, I won't do anything to disrupt the intergrity of the NOPD."

Colston studied her for a moment before cracking a smile, "I am not sure the NOPD has any for you to disrupt. We have to go around back, everything is in a FEMA trailer out back, basement is still not useable."

"Crap, I knew I was going to end up living in a FEMA trailer," Gus muttered, wincing once again as she saw Colston turn stone faced again. "Let me guess, you are still actually living in one?"

Colston nodded, "though it probably is more sound than that dump Piroleaux has you in."

Gus cleared her throat, "actually, sir, I moved in with a friend Uptown. I will still check in on Piroleaux's place from time to time, but..." she trailed off with a shrug.

Colston gave her a friendly smile, "I don't blame you." He motioned up at the trailer they stood before, "here you go, your home away from home away from home for the next six months. There are a few agencies lending people to this, but you are the only person that will be here full-time. There is still a mess of boxes in the basement, underneath the mold. Evidence is scattered from here to Missouri, though the techs are mostly in charge of that. I need order from chaos, not cases solved. Is that fine with you?"

Gus gave a shrug, she hadn't known what to expect and certainly had no clue what she was fine with anymore. "I guess so. Do you want daily reports or is there a procedure manual or something?"

Colston gave a hearty chuckle at this. "You have quite the sense of humor, Broussard. Check in with me here and there to let me know you didn't skip town and if you want procedures, I suggest you come up with them as you go along. Good luck in there, you'll need it," he said before striding away.

Gus took a deep breath before climbing the steps to the trailer. She opened the door and almost wanted to slam it back shut and hightail it back to New York. Endless stacks of mildewed boxes filled the trailer, each stack listing dangerously as the water-soaked boxes wilted in the heat and humidity. Judging by the dust covering every surface, Gus was pretty sure that she was not just the only person here full-time, she was the only person here period.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Email From:detflacknypd**

Gus attempted to dive into the mess that was the cold case and evidence trailer. She felt defeated before she had even touched the first box, a tower of them crumbling to the ground as soon as she passed by. She felt tragically alone and was regretting coming back, her woeful state compounded by the oppressive heat of the trailer. It was days before anyone else even entered the trailer from the Justice complex, and by then Gus had found herself in a state of tears and sweat more than once. Billy tried his best to cheer her up when their paths crossed, but since he was running nightlife business, she had barely seen her dear friend. Buela always had coffee and breakfast ready for her and she was thankful for the elderly woman's companionship, even if she did think the woman was due a nice retirement. Mac had sent her a brief email to let her know Don was safe and to not worry, but she didn't believe his promises to fill her in later. She read Lindsay's letter over and over attempting to be cheered, but Gus was already feeling the distance between her and New York. Not to mention she could only imagine what Don thought upon receiving her letter, considering how he had reacted when she told him she was leaving. He probably hadn't even read it.

Gus almost shot through the roof of the trailer when a beautiful, light-skinned creole woman entered. "Sorry, baby, did I give you a fright? I usually don't find anyone back here. You must be that fancy detective from New York. I'm Chanda Howard, from the Police and Justice Foundation, otherwise known as the idiot who applied for this grant." The woman closed the distance between them with a wide smile and a warm handshake. "Honey, you have got to be dying in that suit, you don't have to dress up back here, this mold will ruin your clothes in a hot second," she gestured down to her own denim and t-shirt.

Gus gave a hesitant smile back, "yeah, I learned that the hard way, but I wasn't really sure. I haven't been given a lot of direction. I'm Gus Broussard, by the way."

"Broussard? There many coon asses up in New York?" Chanda asked with a smirk.

Gus shook her head, "not really. I'm not from New York, I relocated there after Katrina and was the idiot who came up with a system for their cold cases. Who else could they convince to come back down to this swamp?"

"I feel ya, been thinking about moving to Houston myself, my mom'en'em are there now, seem to like it, but I have all this," she gestured around the trailer.

Gus spent the rest of the day being shown what Chanda had done, which wasn't much and had her first horrific visit down to the basement of Tulane and Broad. Something she had refused to do without a buddy, a decision that was supported when Chanda handed her a disposable painter's suit before they entered. It took Gus using up most of the hot water and listening to Billy complain about such before she felt clean after that visit. Gus was happy she wasn't a lab tech and didn't have to dumpster dive on a regular basis.

After a nighttime cocktail and reading some, she debated heading to bed, Billy being on a date and probably not coming home that night, when her laptop pinged to inform her she had an unread email. Gus almost didn't check it, she hadn't received much but junk since coming back to New Orleans, but she had wondered if Mac hadn't emailed her to let her know what all had happened with Don and the Eckhart case. She was glad she did though, when she saw who the email was from.

**From: Don Flack, Jr.**

**To: Augusta Broussard**

**Subject: Hi**

**Gus,**

**So I got your letter, apparently you've been sending them out to everyone, or so it seems. I wasn't sure if I should write you back or not, but I couldn't sleep, so I am sending you this email. So I kind of messed up, big time. I might not even be typing this if it wasn't for Terrance. I know, I can see you wondering, a friggin' CI saved my ass? He did though, literally. It was your Uncle that saved it figuratively. After deservedly kicking it a little more first, though. I'm not going to go into it all here, but I finally took a long hard look and things and needless to say, I didn't like what was seeing. You were right, about a lot of things and I don't blame you for running away again, hell I wish I could. I was drowning and pulling you down with me. Maybe because you let me, maybe because the only time I had any peace was with you. Yeah, I guess I did love Jess, or at least cared about her a whole hell of a lot, she was one of us, you know? But the mess with Cade, it just brought things to another level. I was thinking about that night on the roof, after Aiden died and you tried to tell me something about not being able to wash revenge blood off your hands. I should have listened to you then. I should have listened to you so many damn times and then maybe I wouldn't be in the mess I am right now. I don't know if you know, but we solved the Eckhart case. Though I don't really know how much I helped solve it, considering how half-assed I have been at life lately. We had dinner together tonight, the team. It was weird not having you there. It wasn't just that I missed you, hell everyone misses you, but it was something more than that, I don't know, I can't explain it. I get that you need time to work through some stuff and so do I but I wished you would have been there tonight, that you weren't so damn far away. Stella said something tonight about holding on to the ones we love, and it kinda hit me hard. I don't know what is going to happen with me or you or us, I wish to god I did. I do know that I used you and I hate myself for that, but I also know you would have done anything for me and I love you for that. I just need time, like you do. We both got crap loads to figure out and get over, but I hope you know you aren't cursed, forget whatever voodoo they talk about down there in that swamp of yours. I want you happy, sunshine, I always have wanted that. I am rooting for you conquering those demons of yours and hope I do the same to my own. And for the record, I didn't make you a better person, you made me one. I know we need to talk, about a lot of things, at some point, you know where to find me and I'll try to avoid any ditches. Miss you, Don.**

Gus read the email over and over again, trying to not analyze every word Don had typed and also fighting the urge to pick up the phone and call him. She had to be stronger than that, he said it himself, they both had crap loads of things to work through. Gus also knew if she heard his voice and heard any pain in it, she would be on the first plane back to New York to try to take away that pain, LEEP be damned. She knew she should be happy he even bothered to write her after the way they had left things, but she could help but be wounded by the fact that Don barely even acknowledge how much she had poured her heart out to him. Deep down, she had wanted him to say he loved her too, as much as she loved him, that he wanted to pick things back up, that he wanted her home. But he hadn't said that, even if he made it clear he missed her and hinted at deeper feelings. She still felt wounded by it though, more than she cared to admit, enough that she fell asleep to the sound of cicadas and her own soft crying.

Don shut his laptop angrily, flopping back on his bed, knowing sleep was going to elude him further. Why had he sent that damn email? More importantly, why hadn't he been more honest in it? He had the prefect opportunity to tell Gus he still loved her, would always love her and he wanted, no needed, her back in New York, not down there in that god forsaken swamp. His talk with Mac had made a lot of things clear, things he had mostly known, but just wasn't willing to face yet. Something about hitting rock bottom put things in perspective, as only almost getting beat to death while drunk on a New York City subway could do. Yes, he had been in love with Jess, but not in the same way he loved Gus. Being with Jess was easy, uncomplicated, fun; but it was also more lust based than what he had with Gus. He had never imagined the kind of things about Jess that he had with Gus. How he imagined how Gus would look walking down a long church aisle toward him, placing his hands on her swollen stomach feeling their baby kick from within, if their kids would have her green eyes or his blue ones or if they would be as klutzy as her when he taught them how to throw a ball. He gave a wistful smile, these were thoughts that had kept him afloat, even after she had run away, even as he was hooking up with Jess, even after he shot Cade...Gus was his port in the storm, and he wanted to be hers as well. Hold on to the people you love while you can, that was what Stella had said at dinner tonight, Don just hoped he still could.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Your Favorite Lab Rat, Adam**

Gus tried to not wallow in the email from Don, though she was definitely more somber the next few days as she attempted to make order out of chaos of the cold cases and evidence in both the trailer and basement. The only bright spots in her life where catching up with Billy on a rare night off of his and a letter from Adam.

_Dear Gus,_

_This seems really weird, I mean I am not really a letter writer, more of an email or text kind of guy, but I don't want you mad at me, so here it goes._

_I hope things are alright down there in New Orleans, I get that you probably needed a break from everything up here, but I miss you. Does that make me a wimp? Don't tell anyone on the team, please? It is just different without you here. I don't really know what happened with Flack, other than his cell was in someplace it definitely shouldn't have been and Mac got super angry and Flack got really quiet, even for him, but things seem to be better now. I don't know if you are writing him or if he is writing you or if you guys are taking a break, like a real break or what, but I think you should know that of all the people missing you (and there are a bunch), I think he is missing you the most. Maybe you could come home for Christmas? I will get my nose out of your business now._

_We had this crazy case we just wrapped up, some crazy old guy with this booby-trapped penthouse and a mummy. More money than sense, huh? Speaking of crazy, some FBI chick was in the lab today checking things out, apparently Haylen is going to work for them. Can you believe that? She's barely been in this lab and is practically no more than a crime scene clean-up tech, I just don't get it. Danny keeps bugging me about it, he thinks I am upset about it because he thinks I had a crush on her, but it isn't that, at least I don't think it is that...I just can't believe they picked her over me or Jake. Not that I really want to move over to the FBI, but it would be nice to have the option. Options would be nice to have, like my sister, I just found out that she and her husband are getting transferred to the Middle East for his job. Fine, so maybe that isn't the kind of option I would like to have, but still. It does mean I should probably stick around here though, because my dad can't move in with them and she says his Alzheimer's is getting worse, so he is probably going to have to go into a facility. I am going to stop talking about my problems now, though, I don't want you to worry about them like you do about everybody's problems. You really should stop that, you know._

_Did you mean what you said about coming to visit? I don't know if I will ever actually get to use any of my vacation time, but if I do, I've heard some good things about Jazz Fest, that happens before you come back here doesn't it? You are coming back here, aren't you? Sorry, no pressure, I know you need time to work through things and I hope you do. I gotta go, Mac is giving me that look, you know the one, so I should probably get back to work. I hope you aren't harassing the lab rats too badly down there to run your cold evidence. Assuming there are any lab rats down there._

_Your Favorite Lab Rat (right?!),_

_Adam_

Gus couldn't help but smile at Adam's sign-off, he wasn't kidding about his lack of letter writing skills, though she could practically see him bouncing off the walls of the lab. She sighed, looking around at the moldy pouches of evidence surrounding her, she really could use him and his mad lab skills right about now.

After a long day of not much progress other than getting disgustingly dirty and frustrated at the lack of anyone other than her and Chanda working ocases cold cases, Gus curled up on the porch with a cocktail in one hand and her pad and pen in the other.

"If I didn't know you better, Augusta, I would say you look homesick," Billy teased, coming out to join her in the humid night. "Lord, looks like it is going to be another Christmas in shorts at this rate," he said, fanning himself.

"There is supposed to be a cold snap coming in a week or so," Gus replied, setting her letter back to Adam in her lap, "not that y'all know what a real cold snap is," she said with a grin.

"As I said, homesick, you turning Yankee on me?" Billy teased.

Gus shook her head, taking a drink of her hurricane, "no, I am not, perish the thought. But I may be a little homesick." She winced at the look Billy gave her. "TB, I have been living there for four years, I am allowed to settle in!"

"Funny thing is, you keep running back here, seems to me you are having trouble settling in anywhere. Speaking of which you haven't really told me everything about you and a certain blue-eyed hunk of a detective or this Jimmy Doyle." Billy looked at her pointedly.

"Not tonight, Billy, it's been a long day of trying to shovel crap," Gus replied, finishing her drink.

"How is it going, by the way?"

"For a joint effort by a bunch of agencies, it is like a ghost town. Guess I should have known better," Gus sighed.

"Probably," Billy said with a smile, "well, since you aren't going to give me any details about anything, I'll let you get back to your little letters, I have to freshen up for my date."

"Date? Billy, it is ten o'clock at night!" she admonished.

He gave her a wicked grin, "so don't wait up, darling."

Gus rolled her eyes, going back to her letter.

_Adam,_

_Thanks for humoring me, it was nice to get a piece of, well, home. I wouldn't be mad at you and of course you can text or email or call or whatever, I just wanted to make sure y'all didn't forget me while I was gone._

_I'm sorry to hear about Haylen, I think. Especially if Danny was right. I am not saying he is. But you should have some super smart hottie, you deserve it. You also are amazing enough to work for the Feds, though I don't know why you would want to. Not to mention I would miss you like crazy. I'm also sorry to hear about your dad, I know your relationship with him isn't the best and for good reason, but I also know you still care and take on too much responsibility for others (gee, that sounds familiar). Just know if you ever want to talk, I am always willing to listen. ALWAYS._

_Things are alright down here, it is harder being away from New York than I thought it was going to be, I think I am finally realizing that it is really and truly my home and y'all are my family. I don't know why I can't get through my thick skull without causing so much drama to do so. Thanks for helping track Don down, I am glad y'all have his back when I can't. I have heard from him and I don't know what we are doing, but hasn't that been our story ever since I moved to the city? I do know we each needed time and space to work through some stuff, and hopefully we will both emerge relatively unscathed._

_It is nice to hear I am missed, and I miss all y'all so very much, it hurts. I don't think I will be coming back to visit anytime soon though, things are much worse in the whole cold case and evidence department than I could have ever imagined. Speaking of which, I love you and your lab rats so much more, I seriously think y'all are unappreciated! I could so use the entire team down here and I still probably wouldn't be done by the time my six months is up. Don't worry though, the second that six months is up, I want to be back on a plane, fixing whatever Detective Prioleaux has done to my place. It is after Jazz Fest though, so please feel free to come and get your backfield in motion. And tell everyone they should come for Mardi Gras too, if anyone will ever actually leave the damn lab!_

_Can't wait to hear more about the crazy penthouse case, all I have to offer up is don't put cardboard boxes in flood prone basements and mold comes in many different colors. And, Adam, of course you are my favorite lab rat!_

_Miss Y'all, _

_Gus_


	3. Christmas Nutria

**Chapter 8: Christmas Love from New York, Stella**

Days turned into weeks and while a cold snap did descend upon New Orleans, Gus barely registered it after the cold winters she had endured in New York. The only change she made was to switch from shorts to jeans while sorting through the falling apart boxes in the trailer, thankful that it was no longer a complete oven in there.

She had made headway on a couple of the towers of boxes, Chanda proving to be a major help, not only immediately buying into the system Gus had come up with for the NYPD, but also getting some of the slackers from the other agencies to put in an appearance or two. This helped to get a lot of evidence salvaged and sent off to labs around the country, the lab in New Orleans still unable to even keep up with current cases.

Gus was only made aware that it was almost Christmas when a gigantic tree appeared in the living room of the Brook's home, its branches easily touching the sixteen foot ceiling. "Good Lord, Billy, it is like a forest in here!" she exclaimed coming home to find him and a team decorating it. She was caught with a sense of wistfulness for her uncle, Mac always wanting the biggest tree he could cram into his apartment, a tradition held over from his childhood. Despite his gruff exterior, Mac Taylor loved decorating for Christmas.

"Don't be a Grinch, Augusta, grab some garland and help us," Billy said from his ladder. Gus made a face, which Billy caught. "There is nothing like Christmastime in New Orleans, not even New York. Caroling in Jackson Square, bonfires up and down the levees, Papa Noel, Revellion dinners, brandy milk punch..."

"Fine, Billy, let me just go change. Just tell me you gave proper notice before you evicted the family of squirrels that obviously lived in that tree," replied, rolling her eyes before bounding up the stairs.

* * *

Gus tried to get in the Christmas spirit, assisted by copious amounts of Buela's beloved brandy milk punch, but she kept feeling like she didn't belong, not at any of the many holiday parties Billy dragged her along to, not wandering around the French Quarter looking at garish decorations, not stuffing herself silly with fellow officers at Revellion lunches and dinners in between sorting endless stacks of boxes. She was going through all the motions of a wonderful New Orleans Christmas season, but she kept imagining herself tromping through the fresh Manhattan snow hand and hand with Don, drinking egg nog with the team, passing out gifts at the Rec Center...

Gus sighed, slipping the letter opener into the envelope from Stella, hoping the letter wouldn't make her even more homesick. She pulled out the pages of stationary, stooping to pick up what had fluttered to the floor from its folds. A smile spread across her face as she picked up the photograph, it quickly turning into laughter as she took in the team, sans Stella and Mac dressed as elves at a charity event.

_Dear Gus,_

_Figured you might be missing Christmas in New York and thought you could use a laugh (photograph enclosed), I know it brought a smile to my face taking it! What you can't see in the photo is the giant tree Mac made me drag halfway across the city to the benefit. Of all the traditions for him to hold onto. He misses you, by the way, even though knowing Mac he won't tell you that. He isn't the only one, but more on that later._

_It's been a crazy few weeks since you've been gone. I am certain someone told you about the penthouse case, but let me reiterate how not fun it is almost being sliced in half while working a case just because some crazy old man wanted to spend his money on tricking out his house._

_There also have been the normal desperate crimes that always happen this time of year, keeping the lab busy, not to mention this hit and run life insurance case we just got done with. Love and money, that is what most of the cases we work comes down to, isn't it? The root of all evil. This one involved a couple of broads pretending to rescue addicts off the streets, taking out huge life insurance policies on them, wooing them and then killing them to collect on the policies. The had been planning it for years before we caught this case, years, can you believe that?! I imagine you can, because sadly, I can, we see too much in this job sometimes I think. I don't want to be a killjoy though, not this time of year._

_By the way, are you sure you can't come back here for Christmas? Don't tell him, but I did bust Mac looking up airline tickets for you the other day and there are plenty of couches that would be happy to host you, mine included! I know you are probably busy, Adam was telling me what a horrible state the lab is down there, I can't even imagine. Was a nice reality check as to how great we have it? Maybe I could use up some of my weeks of vacation and come down to volunteer? If Mac will let me leave, that is._

_Did Danny tell you that Lindsay is trying to stop him from saying 'boom'? Like that is going to happen, it would be easier to have him stop breathing. Apparently she is worried it will be Lucy's first word, not the worst thing ever, but I guess I sort of understand. Danny keeps muttering it whenever she is not around, which is humorous. My how times of changed, gone is the Danny Messer chasing girls all over the city. Lindsay roped her cowboy well, that is for sure. Times have changed for all of us though, I suppose, for good and bad._

_Speaking of which, though I am not sure how much you do or don't want to know, Don seems to be doing better. I think his talk with Mac, or at least what I know about it, helped him to clarify some important points, and I really feel like he might actually be healing. I hope so. I hope you are as well. I know you were trying so hard to fix Don, when it wasn't your responsibility or even possible for anyone to fix him other than him. I don't know what all went on between the two of you, from the last time you were in New Orleans actually, but I do know Don is pretty unbearable when you aren't around, even if he is in better spirits than he has been in a long time. Detective Prioleaux has taken more than his fair share of Flack's anger, poor guy is regretting ever agreeing to this little exchange._

_I miss margarita night with you, not that Lindsay can make them much anymore either, it has been too long since I have been to the Blue Moon for some of Juan's tasty treats. Everything seems to be changing, I sort of feel like I am falling further and further behind the times, this is made worse every time I talk to Adam and can't understand half of what he is saying!_

_Enough feeling sorry for myself, take a good look at that photo, keep a copy of it for blackmail purposes as I am pretty sure the other copies have already been destroyed, Sheldon was using the laser for something earlier today...I do feel the elf ears were the perfect touch, don't you?_

_Regardless of where you may find yourself (hint hint) I do hope you have a very Merry Christmas._

_Love from New York,_

_Stella_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Stay Away From the Nutria, Sheldon**

Despite plenty of invites except one from Don, Gus noticed with great disappointment, she spent Christmas in New Orleans, celebrating with Billy and his mother, Buela given a well deserved vacation to spend with her family on a trip to Disney World.

"Sounds nothing like a vacation if you ask me," Billy remarked, shuddering at the thought of all those children and few places to drink as they sat down for the traditional New Year's Day spread.

"William Brooks," Miss Loretta admonished before turning to Gus, "since clearly my son is not going to give me grand-babies before I die, what about you Augusta, any chance on you finding a man to impregnate you anytime soon?"

Gus choked on her drink as Billy beat her on the back. "Mother, please do not kill my best friend at the dinner table. Though she does bring up a good point. Any suitors, Augusta?"

"I have been covered in god knows what in a FEMA trailer and dank basement for the past however many weeks and y'all want to know if I have any suitors? I am not on the market, thanks," she said, going to make herself another drink.

"There are some lovely gentlemen that come to visit at Poydras House and some eligible doctors, I could inquire," Loretta started in.

"That won't be necessary, thank you," Gus seethed.

Billy looked at her with raised eyebrows, "are you sure? Not even for a little romp? Must be getting awfully lonely up there under the eaves. Not to mention I haven't seen any letters from Detective Flack during mail call, or that other one, what was his name?"

"I am not talking to you about Doyle, it was a one time thing, that is all, end of story."

"Augusta Broussard, I am not sure I wish to hear such unladylike things," Loretta clutched at her pearls.

"Oh please, mother, you die for such stories to tell those old biddies!" Billy teased. "Though your point is made, Gus, no more questions about Doyle. Detective Flack is still fair game though. I can't believe he didn't come after you the last time you hightailed it out of town. Should I expect him to turn up on the doorstep this time?"

Gus rolled her eyes, "I highly doubt it, Billy. I am not so sure he shares my feelings, or if he ever did."

"He proposed to you, twice, girl, what more do you need?"

"And then I ran away and ruined any chance at happiness, not that I ever had a hope of one anyway because I am cursed and everyone I love dies and then he fell in love with someone a million times better than me and I didn't even try to fight for him and then I slept with Doyle and then Jess got killed and Don fell apart and then I tried to fix him but I wasn't, I was nothing more than an easy lay and I made things worse and I don't know why he would ever want me back anyway-" she broke off realized she was ranting.

"Well that explains why you have moped since you got here, no wonder you have depleted my liquor cabinet!" Billy said.

Loretta looked at the woman crumbling at her dining room table. "William, I think perhaps I should head back and give you two a chance to catch up."

* * *

Gus decided now was the time to open her latest letter, this one from Sheldon, hoping it contained cheery news.

_Gus,_

_First off, pardon the chicken scratch, half the reason I think I went to med school in the first place was because my handwriting is so horrible that I had to become a doctor._

_How are things with you, I feel like we haven't talked in a while. I am sure you have been pretty busy since you have been down there, and I know you tried to explain a lot in your (really long) letter, but know I don't think you are 'the worst friend ever' or any of that other stuff you tried to say. I know you have dealt with so much, for a long time now and I just want you to take care of yourself. I know everyone else here shares that sentiment. Enough on that though, I know you said you wanted to hear about me and what was happening in my life._

_I am settling into my new place, though it is hard being back in a studio. It is convenient to work though and was easy to furnish, not to mention the rent control. In some ways it feels like I am taking a step back, but I also realized that before I was living outside my means. I know you know how much of a pay cut it is going from professional grade to detective grade. I think I am starting to figure out what is truly important in life, something I feel I was sadly losing sight of. Nothing like having to sleep on your boss' couch to bring you back to reality. I've mostly been busy with work, but isn't that the way it always is? I am still volunteering, but I have cut back those hours some, as I also finally realized I was not doing my best at either and that was something I could not live with._

_The biggest thing going on around here is that Stella took down ADA Hansen. Yes, you did read that right. I don't know if you know about the Reyes case or not, the murderer of Christine Reynolds, but Stella figured out that Hansen planted a cigarette lighter at the scene. She was pretty torn up about it, not wanting Reyes to get away with murder, but you know Stella, she wasn't going to rest until she nabbed Hansen. Turns out his wife was cheating on him and he wanted the lab to do the dirty work of uncovering who she was sleeping with. Which of course we did, because we thought a killer had left the lighter and you know how we all are about our jobs. This wouldn't have been an issue except then the guys turns up missing and I end up having to take apart Hansen's car trying to find this guy, ending in a wild goose chase in the Catskills. As a reward for my great efforts, and yes you do detect sarcasm, I got to dismantle a snow blower which it turns out Hansen had used to kill his wife's lover. So Stella not only got Hansen for evidence tampering, but also for murder. I, however, only got the distinct impression that I may not want to ever get married._

_I don't know how much you have kept up with everyone while your away, but I do know that Danny seems to be struggling a bit. I almost feel bad for pushing him so hard when he was in rehab. I suggested he try acupuncture but he looked at me the same way he did when you suggested he take up meditation. Adam is still a little irritated at Haylen getting hired by the FBI, though I still can't figure out if he is more angry at her being gone or that he wasn't hired. I think Lindsey is also worried about Danny, but she won't say much about it. She did bring Lucy by the lab the other day, I can't believe how fast that little girl is growing and yes, I am aware how many development classes I have taken, but it still is quite the shock._

_I took Stella out for margarita's after this Hansen debacle, she says hello by the way, and she mentioned how lacking the lab was down there. Maybe we should all use some vacation time to rescue you? I doubt you would let us. Mac probably wouldn't either. He says hello as well and to call him when you have a minute to ensure that and I quote his 'niece hasn't been eaten by an alligator or one of those hideous nutria'. I can't say I blame him for being concerned, those nutria are horrible scavengers (you should have heard Adam's scream when I switched his phone wallpaper to a photo of one when he asked what a nutria was). Don grunted something at me when I asked if he wanted me to say anything to you, I think it was hello, but I am not sure. Look, I know it isn't any of my business, but maybe you should think about giving him a call, his snark quotient is decreasingly rapidly and I am a little concerned he may be missing you more than he is letting on._

_That is about all that is going on around here right now, though I promise to keep in touch and to also consider your generous offer of visiting. Stay away from the nutria!_

_Wishing you the best,_

_Sheldon_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Chin Up, Danny**

"Billy, I thought you left SWAT!" Gus exclaimed after he got done interrogating her about everything that had happened since they had last caught up.

"Seriously, sugar, I figured you hadn't called me because you were living this amazing life in New York, busy being in love and fabulous."

Gus slumped in her seat, "oh how I wish that would have been the case, Billy. Nope, I was busy being a wreck like always."

"Now I know I shouldn't say things like this, being a son of the South and all, but, sugar, you really need to let go of all this 'I'm cursed' mumbo jumbo. Nobody has used the voodoo on you. Yes, your parents died, because some crazy man killed your daddy before he could arrest him, he was a cop, a dangerous profession. Yes, you had a friend die because y'all decided to volunteer in a war-torn country in freaking Africa, did you really think something bad wouldn't happen? And yes, New Orleans, Katrina blah blah blah! Over four years later and I am tired of hearing about that bitch, let alone living it. Were we all cursed?" Billy paused to glare at her and finish his drink. "Lord knows I have nearly as many issues as you, sugar, but it is time we both worked through them and let ourselves be happy, otherwise, what is the point?"

"You done telling me to get off my high horse, Tibs?" Gus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I think so. But seriously, darling, what do you need to leave here and get back up to that man of yours and win him back?"

Gus shrugged, "I don't know." She was telling the truth, she really didn't know. Both she and Don kept talking about all the things they needed to work through, demons they needed to slay, but she really wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to go about doing so.

"Well figure it out, sugar, you are not getting any younger," Billy said, landing a kiss on the top of her head before heading to bed.

Gus yelled after him, "thanks for the support, Billy, can always count on you."

* * *

Detective Colston finally checked back in with her midway through January. "How are things going, Broussard?"

"Slow, sir," she admitted, emerging from a pile of files and evidence bags.

"Figured as much," he said, though he was looking admiringly through the work she had manged to get done. "Just keep up the good work for the next couple of weeks before everything goes haywire for Mardi Gras. At least I don't have to explain how everyone loses their minds for that."

Gus blew her hair back, "no, sir, you do not." She paused for a long beat, "you know this would move a lot quicker if the people who were actually worked here were here."

Colston didn't even attempt to hide his laugh, "ain't that the truth in general. As far as I can see, you have already been a miracle worker, so just keep at it and try to not inhale too much mold. Have a good one, Broussard."

"You too, sir," Gus called to his back before taking a break to read her latest letter, this one from Danny.

_Gus,_

_I gotta say when Linds first handed me these envelopes, I shoved 'em in my nightstand and forgot about 'em. I am not really a letter writing kind of guy, which I'm sure doesn't surprise you. But some stuff has been going on and I really kinda wish you were here to give me some of that shrink talk (yeah, yeah, you ain't a shrink, I know). I just don't wanna worry Montana about it all, because she has enough on her plate with work and Luce and keeping my ass in line._

_So stuff...it seems Shane Casey is back again. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to take Doc up on his suggestion of trying acupuncture, don't you dare smirk at me Broussard, and my badge, wallet and grandfather's dog tags went missing from my locker. I didn't think much of it at first, until we found the dog tags in a pawn shop during this case we were working. I ran prints and found Casey's and, well, I kinda freaked out. Lindsay is telling me not to worry, but I really think it is just her trying to not worry. I don't have to tell you how wackadoo Casey is, but I can't figure out what it is he wants with me. Crazies are your department, not mine. Any guess with what the hell he is playing at?_

_He'll probably kick my ass for telling you this, but we worked this Lingerie League football case and Flack didn't even notice of all the girls fawning over him in the scraps of lace they like to call uniforms. Yeah, I know, a few years ago I would be making some knuckle head comment about hot girls prancing around in their underwear, but that was before I got married and became a father. Of course we had a girl, if that isn't the big guy looking down at me and laughing, I don't know what it is. But back to Flack, I don't know what to tell you, BB, he is a mess without you, he has been one since last time you decided to visit the swamp. You two need to just put all the crap of the past however long it has been aside and just friggin' kiss and make up, just make sure to close the blinds in the interview room first, I can tell you first hand how mad Mac gets when you don't do that first. Seriously though, Flack about took my head off with this whole badge thing, and why I guess I know it is a big deal, I'm not used to him losing his cool with me like that, I want my old friend back and I mean that for both of yous._

_Alright, I gotta go, Lucy is going to be crying in her crib any second and I am on morning duty. Take care of yourself, BB and don't forget about us up here._

_Chin Up,_

_Danny_

Gus sat down, trying to absorb all of what Danny had said and hinted at in his letter, carefully formulating her response. She could only imagine what Shane Casey wanted with Danny, the man had been fixated on Danny since he had tried to frame Hawkes however long ago. She was worried for her friend, about the whole situation, but if she was reading between the lines correctly, Danny hadn't looped many people in on the situation and Gus was not about to narc on him. As for everything Danny had said about Don, well, Gus couldn't hide her pleasure at the fact that he hadn't looked twice at hot girls in next to nothing nor could she deny she was a mess without him as well.

_Dear Danny,_

_I'm glad you found the envelopes and put them to good use. I am sorry you had to though. It sounds like so much is going on and yes, I do really wish I was there to help you through in person. You have helped me with so much over the past four plus years (has it really been that long) and I don't feel as though I have gotten to return the favor as often._

_I completely understand you not wanting to burden Lindsay, but you have to remember a couple of things. She is your wife and life partner, so she knew what she was signing up for when she married your sorry ass; let her be your rock. Second, for such a small girl, Linds has the strength of an army, so stop being so afraid to lean on her, she isn't going to break! You should know by now how much stronger we must be because of our chosen professions, and we are really the stronger sex as it is, getting treated like we are glass does not put you on our good side. And I know you don't want to get on Lindsay's bad side (my liver barely recovers when you are)._

_Listen to Sheldon as well, and I did not smirk, not even the tiniest bit. I just want you healthy and whole. As for Casey, I think being overly cautious is the right call. He has fixated on the team ever since he crossed our paths, and he seems to have some special connection to you. He is a psychopath, pure and simple, Danny and that is not something to mess with. I know you aren't really one to bring other people into your business, but you may have to loop some other people in on this, like Mac, maybe? Yes, he will probably give you his judgmental and disappointed stare, but as someone who has received thousands of those over the years, I can tell you they will not kill you. He might if you don't report your badge missing, though. Shane is up to something, I can't even hazard a guess as to what, but please watch your back!_

_Lingerie Football, (pardon me while I throw up a little in my mouth, it is only a 50-yard field and they can't punt) huh? Yeah, bet you cried a river when you got called out to that scene, even if you are an old married father. Thanks for the photos of Lucy by the way, I hope she has liked everything I have sent her, I have to spoil her so she doesn't forget who Ti Gussie is before I get back! She will be quite the looker, Messer, so I hope you have your shotgun shining skills ready and waiting._

_This is me not saying anything about Flack. Don't shake your head at me, Danny Messer. I am working on putting the crap aside, believe me, but it is two-way street and I am not sure Don really even wants me back. I can't blame him, I may not be made of glass, but I sure as hell am broken. Thanks for trying to keep my hopes up, though, I do appreciate it. Take care of yourself, Dan-O._

_Love ya,_

_Gus_

Gus sighed before sealing the envelope on her letter back to Danny, despite her advice to him, she didn't have any clue how to fix her own messes.


	4. Taking Care

**Chapter 11: Take Care of Yourself (Mac)**

_Dear Gus,_

_I am sorry I haven't been able to return your phone calls, but I hope this letter will suffice. I am fine, and yes, I am trying to sleep at home in my bed. I was taking care of myself long before Claire ever introduced me to you, you know. Just how would you respond to the same litany of questions you asked me? I thought so._

_We just wrapped up a case and I kept thinking of you during it, and not just the victim was a blonde with green eyes (don't think I can't tell you are rolling your eyes at me, Gussie). You must have sent some of that New Orleans mojo up here, because the case was about real live Sanguinistas and I couldn't help but think about that first summer I met you when you were devouring all those Anne Rice books. I thought they were a little too dark and mature for some bubbly teenage girl, but as Claire pointed out, there were worse ways for you to cope. She also pointed out that you also did endless hours of research on the history of New Orleans, Louisiana, Italy, Egypt,_ _slavery, creoles, etc. because of them and that I probably should learn to pick my battles with you._

_I don't know if I have gotten any better at that over the years. For instance, I wonder if I shouldn't have done more last year to try to get you back from New Orleans, yes I see the irony since I practically shipped you off there this time. Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to battle with you when you first got together with Don, maybe if I had been more accepting of your relationship, you would have been more accepting of your relationship, one I now realize was greater and deeper than any of us ever knew. I shouldn't have tried to stop your happiness, Gussie, but you shouldn't try to stop it either. You have to stop letting the ghosts in your past haunt you. All of them._

_Take Care of Yourself,_

_Mac_

Gus shoved the letter back in her tote, her shoulders sagging. She had tried to catch up with Mac since she received the letter from Sheldon, but they had done nothing more than play phone tag. While a brief smile had crossed her face, followed by a snort at Mac busting her on her slight obsession with night-walkers in her youth, she couldn't help but feel he was ducking her calls for some unknown reason. She just hoped it wasn't that Don had met someone new...

"Why the hound dog face, Broussard?" Lieutenant Colston asked, the door of the trailer banging shut behind him.

"Sorry, sir," Gus replied, barely looking up until he whistled.

"Have you been sleeping here, kid?" Colston asked as he looked around at the drastic transformation the trailer had undergone since even the last time he had been there.

Gus shrugged, she was putting in a lot of hours, desperate to get cases in order enough to actually start trying to make them active again. She also had tracked down every person listed on the grant, shaming them into showing their sorry hides now and again. Despite her best efforts, she still felt thwarted. "It looks nicer than it is. Mostly just a lot of new copies and clean boxes. I upgraded to plastic tubs, hope you don't mind, sir."

"Not my budget," Colston quipped. "What is the status of all this?" he said, gesturing at the now carefully labeled tubs.

"I set up a database and have sorted through what I could, made careful records of anything that couldn't be salvaged and tore a new one into everyone that hadn't shown their faces here for months. Speaking of which, I think I owe a lot of people a lot of lunches, I may have been a little too much of a New Yorker on some of them," Gus paused as Colston chuckled,"but most of my progress is just window dressing, without a lab to handle all the evidence, these cases are colder than it is in New York now and the basement is still a wreck."

"Still, this is far more than I expected to get done in the entire time you were here. I may not let you go back, Broussard!" Colston raised his eyebrows at her, wondering if there was any hope of getting her to come back home.

Gus squared her shoulders and cocked a hand on her hip, "sir, no disrespect intended, but I am on the first plane out of here in a hot second as soon as my exchange is up."

Colston shook his head, "maybe you need to quit spending so much time this moldy trailer and remember what a great city this is. Some things are better than they have ever been, Broussard."

"Maybe so, sir, I am not denying it is a wonderful city and part of my heart will always be here..." she trailed off.

"But let me guess, to steal from Harry Junior, you miss the one you care for more than you miss here?" Colston stared her down, wondering what her story was, he had been more interested in getting his house in order than he had been in her back-story when he heard Daddino bragging at that conference. Gus just nodded, her arms falling to her sides. "Regardless, kid, it's almost Carnival time, this place will be locked up tighter than a tick, so get out there and enjoy yourself." Gus sighed, opening her mouth to protest, she was here to work and get her head on straight, not catch beads and doubloons. "Don't try to argue, Broussard, it's an order," Colston barked before exiting the trailer.

"Oh, somebody is in trouble," Chanda said coming out from behind the partition where she was making copies, "though I have to admit I have never heard someone get order to go to Mardi Gras! Speaking of which, what balls have you been to so far?"

"None, though Billy keeps bugging me to join him."

"None, pretty Uptown girl like you?" Chanda smiled.

Gus rolled her eyes, "I have seen the inside of the Municipal Auditorium and been called out more than enough in my lifetime, Chanda, I am all good."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Fancy, but you let ol' Chanda know if you want to slum it down at the Convention Center, we bought tons of table this year since my Uncle is Big Shot."

It took Gus a second to realize Chanda was saying she had a relative who was royalty in Zulu and another second to feel sad that she had to think about it. Maybe she was turning Yankee, though she hoped not. "I would love to come, Chanda, though I am not wearing some cream puff of a dress."

Chanda gave her a look, "with that figure, I should hope the hell not, though we still got to work on fattening you back up, child!"

"I am working on it," Gus replied, with a sly smile, "speaking of which, you want to go grab some lunch?"

"Girl, don't ask silly questions," Chanda replied, grabbing her purse.

* * *

Gus curled up in bed, her hair damp from her bath, looking down at her phone as though she was willing it to ring. In a way she was, not that there was any real reason for it to. It was getting late and she hadn't received that many calls since being back in New Orleans. Yet still, she held on to faint hope that Don would somehow pick up on how much she yearned to hear his voice and would magically call her. Mac's words were sitting heavy with her as well.

Taking a deep breath, Gus hit the first number on her speed dial, chewing on her lip as it rang. She tried to not cry out in frustration when it clicked over to voice mail but lost her nerve when it came time to leave a message, only managing to mumble, "hey, Don, it's me, just, um, wanted to say hi, it's, ah, Gus, by the way. Talk to you later." She mentally kicked herself as she hung up, deciding to write a few quick emails before bed.

Don stood under the hot spray of the water, trying to wash the alley grime and slush of the day off. 'Why do they always have to run', he thought, groaning as he heard his phone buzzing. Another DB, seriously, it had already been a hell of a week. First there was that vampire case and the runner today and all he wanted was a night off. Well, that wasn't all he wanted, but he wasn't about to get what he wanted anytime soon, considering the object of his desire was 1300 miles away...he turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and going to see where the latest victim in the city lay.

While relieved to see the missed call wasn't from dispatch, he felt his heart twist as he realized he had missed a call from Gus. He had wanted to call her countless times since he had sent that stupid email, the one where he chickened out and didn't tell her how much he loved her and missed her and wanted to start things over again. He listened to her voice mail, his stomach sinking as she just fumbled her way through a surface message, though he didn't know why he was hoping for more. Especially when you considered his last angry words to her in person, he had kicked himself for not calling her to have the talk he knew they needed to have and now he wondered if he had missed his chance.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Right by You (Love, Don)**

Don glowered at his computer, trying to ignore the buzz of the pit around him as he listened to Gus' voice mail again. Just wanted to say hi, did she really think he wouldn't know it was her? He grumbled slightly, opening up his email before he could second guess himself again.

**Gus,**

**I got your voice mail, sorry I missed your call, I was trying to spray off some alley grime. While you are out prancing in 55 degree weather, we are all freezing our butts off up here. At least the snow finally finished melting, I know how much you hate slush. You don't have to tell me it is you calling, sunshine, first off, I got caller id and secondly, I think I would know your voice even if I was deaf, dumb, blind and played a mean pinball. Please tell me you are laughing at that reference. It stinks not having you here, that Piroleaux kid doesn't get half of my jokes and I have wasted some prime material on him. I can't believe he is a homicide detective at 22. The NOPD throw shields out at those parades of yours?**

**Which reminds me, you should have heard the crap the boy caught when he requested off for a long weekend to come down there for Mardi Gras, Lafferty ragged him so hard about calling it a religious celebration, it set them off for hours. Simmer down, sunshine, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears from here, I set them straight and defended the poor kid. Apparently he dropped like two grand just to ride in some funny sounding parade...End-something? I remember all your stories, you would always get the biggest smile on your face talking about the kids on ladders at parades (though that still doesn't sound safe to me) and the amount of work that people put into their costumes and how long it takes to build a float...you made it clear it is so much more than just fancy balls and co-eds flashing for plastic beads. I miss that smile, it has been too long since I have seen it, and not just because you have been gone for eleven weeks, four days and seven hours (not that I counted).**

**Daddino felt sorry for him, so he is letting him come down there. Lucky bastard, I guess he will get to see you, even if his place wasn't nice enough for you to stay at. I'm just teasing you, Gus, I am glad you are staying with Billy, and don't let him know I said this, but I know Mac is too, he's worrying about you. I wish, well, I wish a lot of things, but I really wish you would have shown me your New Orleans before it became this city of contention for us, I mean I guess there isn't really anything stopping you from showing me your New Orleans and I have heard about a few drinks down in that swamp of yours that will make me forget any contention and possible my name...except me being here and drowning in work. Speaking of which, looks like I have to cut this short because Daddino is bitching at me to get over to Trinity General because some race car guy went up in flames and apparently he has been get death threats all month.**

**But before I go, I just wanted to apologize for my last email, lets just say there was a lot more I wanted to say, still want to say, I just gotta figure out how to say it all first. I want to do right by you, sunshine, always.**

**Love,**

**Don**

He hit send as Daddino roared at him to get his ass in gear, once again wishing he had said more.

* * *

"It is a ball, sugar, not a funeral, could you at least try to look like you are having fun?" Billy quipped as he handed Gus another drink.

Gus took a long swallow and pasted a beauty queen smile on her face, "that better, Billy?"

He grimaced, "it is actually a little frightening how well you do that. Now why the St. Jame's Infirmary impression?"

Gus sighed, "it's just, this is my first Mardi Gras night back since, you know, and this wasn't at all how I pictured it."

Billy gave a small snort, "no kidding, I can't believe none of your New York friends took you up on your offer of free lodging for Mardi Gras! Those Yanks do not know what they are missing out on. At least they let that poor little boy back for his Endymion ride."

Gus gave a small smile, "you're just happy because it meant we got tickets to the Extravaganza!"

"Maybe a little," Billy with a smirk, "regardless, don't let their loss get you down. How about we go cut a rug and celebrate a certain Super Bowl win?"

"My pleasure, Billy, but I don't think we can cut a rug at the Comus ball," she started walking to the dance floor until Billy suddenly jerked her in another direction.

"You are so right, sugar, it is just a bunch of old fuddy duddies trying to waltz, maybe we should just head on over to the club, we really should take advantage of my owning a club in the Quarter..." Billy trailed off as Gus yanked herself out of his grip.

"Tibs, what the hell?" she exclaimed, wondering if she had just broken her heel during Billy's about-face.

Billy took in his friend's fiery expression and knew she would not let up until she got an explanation. "Well, uh, there is just someone who I forgot would be here..." he trailed off, trying to not look and wincing as Gus picked up on it and looked in the exact direction he didn't want her to. The fire extinguished immediately in her eyes as she caught sight of her no good ex-fiancee, replaced by a clenched jaw and squared shoulders.

"Gage," she whispered, "of course he is here."

"Yes, which is why I think you and I should just head on out the smoker's door and get our cute little behinds down to the Quarter before the mounted unit comes on through to chase us all home," Billy said trying to lead her away.

"No," Gus said, thinking of the letter from Mac, she had to let the ghosts from her past stop haunting her, she told Don she had things to work through and she was going to, starting now.

"No?" Billy asked, incredulous.

Gus drew herself up, looking every bit as graceful as the debutantes scattered around the ball, chin held high as she strode to where Gage Fontenot and his wife were standing. Well as graceful as she could with a wobbling heel. Billy followed close behind, not wanting to miss the fireworks.

He noticed her right away, her figure like a specter floating into his line of vision. Gage was suddenly caught in a time warp, he hadn't set eyes on his former financee in years and he had worked hard to remove any vestiges of her in his new life. He prayed she wasn't about to make a scene, not here, his father would fall out with a heart attack if she did. He thought about telling Bitsy to go get them another round of drinks, but he worried she would get suspicious. Bitsy had started to catch on to his dalliances as of late...

"Why Gage Fontenot, it has been ages, hasn't it?" Gus said, trying to keep her tone light and lilting, determined to not make a scene while banishing this demon permanently.

"Augusta?" Gage replied, sounding a little shocked, though he was more shocked at her tone than her presence. He had expected her to go on the attack, strutting up like the little bitch wannabe cop she was. He studied her, the golden silk halter dress matching her loose curtain of hair and skimming over her curves, her makeup lighter than nearly every other woman in the room, but her natural beauty shining through. There was something different about her, she seemed haunted somehow, but softer than he ever remembered. He just couldn't figure out why she was in New Orleans and not New York, he vaguely remembered hearing gossip that still trickled up to Natchez, but he couldn't remember it all...

"In the flesh," she said, putting a hand out toward Bitsy, "Augusta Broussard, but everyone calls me Gus, except Billy's dear mother and my uncle when I am in trouble," she said, introducing herself with a thousand watt smile.

Bitsy shook her hand limply, resting her other palm on the barely perceptible bump in her couture ball gown. Her smile was wide, but her eyes told Gus she knew exactly who the woman before her was.

Gus took in the other woman's defensive and territorial move. "Oh, how far along are you? You are absolutely glowing, by the way. Is this your first?" Gus twittered on, trying to ignore Billy choking back a laugh.

"Five months, our third in fact, three under five, it is exhausting but so rewarding. I can't imagine being anything other than a good wife and mother! What about you, married, children? Don't you know Gage from school?" Bitsy tried to feign innocence but failed. Gage paled beside her.

Gus took in the woman's carefully applied makeup and long sleeves, not to mention that slightly caged look in her eyes. She would bet everything left in her trust fund that both things were hiding bruises inflicted by the man she was trying to not throttle. Gus opened her mouth to speak, but Billy jumped in, worried about her reaction and not wanting a scene, knowing it would get back to his mother in a second.

"Oh Gussie is doing just fine, the NOPD is trying to steal her away from New York, she is just about taking over, I am thinking about having Buela sew her a cape, my little Super Hero. She barely takes time to sleep, let alone get married or have babies, but I am sure it is coming, once she takes a break from keeping all of us civilians safe, her detective man friend back in New York could practically be on the cover of the NYPD calendar, if you know what I mean," Billy waggled his eyebrows, camping it up.

Gus shot him a look, "Oh, Billy, you flatter me so. Gage, it has been too long, Bitsy you mind if I steal him for one little dance? Billy, get this poor girl a seat and some punch!" Before Gage could protest, Gus moved them to the dance floor.

"What is going on, Broussard?" Gage growled.

Gus was not dissuaded and Gage noticed she did not flinch in his arms or whither at his gaze like she used to. "Just thought a couple of old friends should catch up, that's all. Recovery and all that." She smiled up at him, but her eyes gave away that she was on a mission.

"How about we take a walk, outside?" Gage said, trying to get a grip on her arm, shocked at the muscle below her soft curves.

"Sounds perfect," Gus said, moving so that she was dragging him and not the other way around.

They stepped out a side door of the hotel, quickly caught up in the crush of revelers at the corner of Decatur and Canal. "You care to tell me how the hell you got in to the Comus ball are what you are doing in New Orleans?" Gage said, his jaw working.

"I am here as Billy's date, and as you well know his father-"

"I know all about the damn Brooks family, Augusta, but what is going on with you and this stupid tri-Delt routine?"

Gus steeled herself, knowing it was now or never. "I am here on an exchange program for work, trying to get the massive amount of cold cases NOPD is collecting under control. I am also here because I am working through some things."

Gage didn't even try to hide his bark. "That sounds more like the old Augusta. Always some sob story with you, isn't it? What was it this time, some ghetto punks not take your Mother Theresa routine very well?"

"Shut up, Gage and listen good. I am not that frightened little bunny of a girl you talked into getting engaged. I put up with your crap because I thought I deserved it, because I wanted the family I never got to have become some psycho murdered my parents. I thought you could offer me everything I was ever supposed to want or have. I am better than all that and better than you and don't stand there looking all smug and superior. You can have your big ol' plantation house in Natchez and your cushy corporate law partnership and your obedient stick of a wife and your complaisant children in their ridiculous smocked clothing and shove it up your ass, because you are nothing but an abusing bully who gets off on power you don't even have. Bitsy may never wake up and realize she has thrown her life away from a jerk who sleeps with anything that moves, but thank god I did. I am glad you split my lip with your stupid frigging' frat ring, because it did actually knock some sense into me. We would have never worked, we didn't ever work. I don't want the life you have, I need something different. But thank you, thank you for being enough of an ass that I found where I am supposed to be. I have happiness and a family that loves me for who I am and I have a job that I am great at and a place that I can really call home. For maybe the first time in my life I know where I belong and who I am, and I guess I do owe that to you and Katrina. So thank you, Gage Fontenot." Gus ended her speech, feeling a little haggard, but quickly covering it up.

She couldn't have been more shocked when Gage gave her a small and wistful smile before answering. "You are right, Augusta, always were. I had already worked my way through the social register and was desperate to not lose my trust fund. You seemed like an easy target, were one for a bit. But I wasn't happy, you weren't happy and you weren't going to give me what I wanted, what I deserved. I know you won't ever understand my life, just like I won't understand yours," he gave a small shrug. "Thank you, for not having your little tirade inside." Gus thought about jumping on him for using the word tirade to brush off her pouring everything out to him, but judging by his sagging shoulders, she knew she had gotten through to him, so she kept her mouth shut. "Speaking of inside, I should get back before Bitsy wonders where I am."

His tone was more than she could take. "Who is it this time, Gage? Secretary? Paralegal? Mail room girl?" she asked, sadness more than venom in her tone.

He had to give her credit for her astuteness, especially since it was no longer his problem. A reptilian smile spread across his face, "nanny, actually," he replied before disappearing back into the crowd.

Gus made her way back to the hotel, Billy already out front and looking for her. "You alright, sugar?" he asked, looking at her carefully.

She broke out into a very genuine smile, "actually, Billy, I am better than I have been in a long time. Now how about we get the hell out of here, I happen to have an amazing friend that owns one of the best clubs in the Quarter." With that, they linked arms and let themselves get lost in the magic of the night.


	5. Love, Life and Luck

**Chapter 13: So Much Love**

Gus looked down at the letter from Lindsay with a smile, her friend's infectious excitement practically jumping off the page.

_Dear Gus,_

_We just had the best case. I know, I am not supposed to get happy about some guy getting burned, Danny has already been teasing me about that, but it was just amazing. I am sad that Davi Santos died, he was one of the greatest drivers of all time. How come you never told me Mac was a motor head too? It was pretty neat taking the cars apart and getting to see how everything goes together so perfectly. I totally agree with Adam that your practically need an engineering degree to drive one, though Mac doesn't have one and he got to take a lap, lucky duck!_

_Anyway, I was actually writing you to thank you again for your generous invitation for us to take a Messer family vacation for Mardi Gras and for patiently explaining to my lump of a husband all the family things that go on during Carnival. For a guy who works with science, he certainly believes practically everything he sees on TV, oh well, at least he stopped calling me Montana as much. Speaking of cowboys, did you talk to Flack or something, because he had an actual smile on his face the other day and didn't clench his jaw once when I was talking about you. I hope you did. Just like I hope you two would get your acts together and get back together again, just remember when you do to block the door in the supply closet because I can tell you for a fact how angry Mac gets when you don't do that and he walks in...but back to my thank you, I do appreciate the offer and while we are planning a family getaway, it won't happen until late Spring. I am all for a girl's weekend if you stay a couple of extra weeks at the end for fun, not that I don't want you back in New York, but Stella and I were just chatting about how we needed to have a girl's trip. Miss you!_

_I should let you go, I am sure another case will come in any second now and it will probably be boring._

_So Much Love,_

_Lindsay_

Gus shook her head, fully realizing how much she missed her friend, her family, really. A girl's weekend sounded like fun, but Gus wasn't sure she really wanted to extend her stay in New Orleans even if for her best friends. She also tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach over hearing that Don had been in better spirits. She had, in fact, called him after her show down with Gage and even though it hadn't been a long or deep conversation, it was the most deliciously ordinary conversation. It didn't hurt that Don had rung off with a quick 'love you, bye' as he headed out to a call. She was trying to not read too much into it, it could have just been reflex, but she wasn't going to discount whatever she could get from him. She loved him too much to let him go and she was determined to not let anything get in her way.

She let this thought bolster her as she stared up at the modest farmhouse in the middle of Ville Platte, willing herself to get out of the car and knock on the Doucet's front door.

* * *

Gus immediately lost her nerve the second the woman answered the door, the resemblance to Gus' friend obvious in her features. "Can I help you?" the woman asked, though Gus had to try hard to make out what she said through her thick Cajun accent.

"Mrs. Doucet?"

"Well, I suppose that's my name, though I think of Ronnie's mother every time someone calls me that, god rest her soul, call me Mary. You ain't selling something are you?" the woman looked Gus over carefully, like she was trying to remember where she knew her from.

"No, not at all ma'am. I actually was wondering if we could talk..." Gus trailed off, losing her gumption by the second. Maybe banishing ghosts wasn't such a good idea, maybe it was just courting trouble, dragging up too much.

"You went to school with Spenny, down in N'Awlin's, I remember you from family weekends, Augusta, isn't it?" Mary Doucet said, "lord that seems like forever ago, though some days it seems like yesterday-" she paused, getting a far away look in her eye. Gus thought about just running back to her jeep, but Mary threw open her door and stepped back, "Good Lord, child, where are my manners, get in here and have some tea!"

Gus stepped over the threshold with a heavy heart, made heavier when she took in the worn but well-cared for house, the walls covered with photographs of Spencer and his family.

"Sit, please, make yourself comfortable. Did you drive up here from New Orleans? Of course you did, you must be parched, I'll be right back." Mary was true to her word, returning nearly immediately with a picture of tea, two glasses filled with ice and lemon wedges and what looked like homemade tarts on an antique tray. Gus shook her head, knowing she kept a similar tray at the ready in her own kitchen, though her pastries were from a bakery and she never used the damn set-up.

"What on earth brings you up to Ville Platte?" Mary asked, handing her a glass filled with delicious iced tea. Gus took a nervous sip, not sure of how to begin or what she really wanted to say. "Gator got your tongue?" Mary asked with a comforting smile of a woman who often had to pry information out of her children. Gus recalled Spencer talking about his countless siblings, of which he was the oldest.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I just don't know where to begin."

"Beginning is usually a good start," she replied, leaning back and waiting for Gus to come out with it.

"Yes, I went to school with Spencer, I was in a lot of his classes, thinking I could hack pre-Med when, I couldn't. Your son was brilliant Mrs. Doucet, Mary, tried endlessly to tutor me despite less than spectacular results, I ended up switching to psychology, was working on my doctorate while he was starting med school when..." she trailed off again.

"You're a psychologist. A psychologist is nothing to sniff at," Mary said, remaining patient, her head filling with happy memories of her son's head bent over the worn kitchen table doing homework.

"I was, now I'm a detective with NYPD."

"Like the TV show, what on earth are you doing in Ville Platte then?" Mary took her own drink of tea with raised eyebrows.

"I am doing this exchange with the NOPD, trying to get cold cases in order, everything is still a mess since the flood."

"I imagine, we got hit worse with Rita and again with Ike, sometimes I think the Devil himself must be living in Evangeline Parish. But I doubt you came here to chat about natural disasters or the lack of Federal aid." The older woman looked at Gus knowingly before looking up at the clock, "and while I don't want to rush you, Ronnie gets off shift at 3 from the refinery and the last of my brood gets home from school shortly after."

Gus took a big breath, her words coming out in a big whoosh, "IthinkIamwhyyoursonwaskilled ."

"Pardon?" Mary said, taking in Gus' pallor and eyes filling with tears.

Gus chewed on her cheek, willing herself to keep it together. "I was with Spencer, that night." Mary just nodded, recalling the pretty girl in the photographs her son sent home like clockwork. "There was this professor, he was out of line with all the girls and Spencer, he tried to defend us and I think it got him in hot water with the Rebels and one night he came back saying he had a way to get the professor to stop bothering us and the next night, he was dead." Gus couldn't hold back the tears, even after drawing blood from her cheek, only crying harder as Mary Doucet handed her a handkerchief while using one herself before drawing Gus into her arms, her motherly instincts on overdrive.

"Shush, now, child," Mary said, her voice calm as a spring day. "Look at me, Augusta, I know all about that rotten professor, Spencer wrote us about him, long before y'all ever went over there. He almost didn't go to med school because of him, but Ronnie talked some sense into him and made him stand up to that awful man. Spenny always was the protective one: his siblings, his cousins, stray animals, he wanted to protect them all; got him in trouble all the time growing up. He would have made a great doctor," Mary stopped, releasing her hold on Gus, dabbing at her eyes once more, taking another drink of tea. "He was a good boy, my Spencer, and would have been a great man, but you were not why my son was killed, you did not kill him, you are not responsible. Have you been thinking that all these years?"

Gus could only nod, not sure how to proceed, she had expect the woman to get angry, to scream at her, to throw her out of the house while cocking a shotgun at her.

"That is quite the thing to hold onto for nine years. Can't imagine it has done you any good."

"I've held on to a number of things a good bit longer than that," Gus quipped.

A flash of recognition lit up Mary's eyes, "I remember now, you were the baby of the group, what two, three years younger than the rest of them, your parents died when you were young, gave the nuns a run for their money until they begged the Jesuits to take you off their hands is how I recall Spenny describing you to us. I was surprised to find you looking like a debutante when I met you, I was expecting blue hair and holes all over your face."

Gus couldn't help but laugh, remembering the once over Mary had given her that first Parent's Weekend. Mary waited until Gus stopped laughing, gently cradling Gus' face in her calloused hands, "listen to me, dear, life isn't always fair, lord knows it has given me more than my fair share of heartache, but there is no use holding onto pain, you have to let those ghosts go. Spencer died doing what he loved most in this world and you had nothing to do with it. You want to make things right with him, honor his memory, you go out there and protect people, be the best detective you can and don't forget to love, because my boy, he had so much love in him and that is the one thing I can't handle being gone from this world."

Gus could only nod, tearing up once again. "Stop with your crying, now, girl, or you'll have me a mess. Now if you don't mind, I need to get supper started and you should probably be heading back down to New Orleans or you'll hit that traffic in Baton Rogue."

"Thank you, Mrs. Doucet, I always knew Spencer had a good Mama, and you are right about that love, he loved his family so much. It means more than you'll ever know that you even agreed to talk to me today," Gus gave the woman a hug as Mary led her to the door. Mary gave her one more long squeeze before walking Gus back to the jeep, waving at her son's friend as she backed out of the drive.

Gus took the long way home after leaving the Doucet's, following the curves of the Mississippi all the way back to New Orleans, losing Spencer's ghost somewhere along the way and arriving back at the Brook's with a song starting to creep back in her heart.

* * *

**Chapter 14: That Is My Life (Stella)**

Billy looked at her with curiosity when she pulled up, dusty and worn from her day off trip to Ville Platte. "Sugar, when you get the day off, you are supposed to relax, not go traipsing through rice fields."

"Billy, leave me alone until I shower off or I won't buy you dinner."

"Treating me to dinner, what a turn of events, the NOPD finally remember they have to pay you? In that case, Commander's or August?"

Gus shook her head, pulling her hair out of its tie, "you keep at it, Billy and I will take you to Popeye's," she said, before giving her friend an impromptu squeeze and peck on the cheek.

"Where's this coming from, sugar?" Billy inquired, his friend had been a lot more reserved since she had been back.

"Just putting some things to rest, and remembering how much I love you," she replied, looking down at her shoes, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Billy gave a cheerful laugh. "love you too, darling, but please go take a shower, you are covered in dirt and bugs. Oh and I put your mail on your bed, that curly-haired Goddess friend of yours sent you a letter. How you convinced a bunch of scientist to not use technology is beyond me."

Gus bounced up the stairs, wondering what Stella had to say.

_Dear Gus,_

_It's been awhile, I can't believe it is already March, it seems like I was just bugging you about coming home for Christmas. We missed you. Thanks for the invitation to Mardi Gras, I just couldn't take time off, work has been nonstop lately, though Lindsay has decided we need a girl's weekend. Of course if I was married to Danny and was trying to juggle being a mom and a CSI, I would probably want some time away as well!_

_What am I saying? I want some time away as it is now, but, well I don't have to tell you how it goes. Though I am wondering how it is going with you. Mac said you two finally got a chance to talk and said you sounded like things were going pretty well, I am sure you will have everything whipped into shape in no time, but no, we are not lending you any lab rats no matter how many times you ask. Is it really that bad? The photos you sent were pretty scary, it is just hard to imagine that happening in the USA._

_Of course it was hard to imagine why a barely legal kid would be wandering the streets of Manhattan covered in blood and brandishing an ax with his two friends and two girls dead in his hotel room but that just happened here, though we all had trouble believing it. I think Flack missed having you in the kid's interrogation, you know how he likes a crazy to normal decoder ring. Not that it would have helped much though, the kid wasn't crazy, he was tripping from LSD some girls slipped him and his friends. The midget wrestler may have been on the other side of crazy though. Now that I write that out, it is no wonder I can't find a guy to go on more than a couple of dates with me that isn't crazy himself. Think I would have better luck down there? In case you're wondering, and I know you are, no the kid did not kill his friends or the girls. Apparently the girls were drug runners for a real piece of work and were trying to rob the trio who won a little high stakes bingo game to buy out of the life, but their boss had other ideas and killed them and the friends. Kid only escaped because he was tripping in the bathtub, of all the dumb luck. I have to say, it was nice to see Flack acting a bit more like his old self on this case, don't suppose you know anything about that, do you? I hope you do, it would be nice for someone other than Lindsay and Danny to be happy and in love around here. Just let me get in a few more margarita nights first though, alright?_

_Love from New York,_

_Stella_

Gus read the letter, a smile spreading across her face. Stella was right, their jobs were crazy, even crazier when you wrote it down. She felt a little bad for her friend, though, Stella deserved love and happiness just as much as she did, if not more so. Deciding she had just enough time if she only took a quick shower, she pulled out some fresh stationary to compose a reply.

_Dear Stella,_

_It was so great to hear from you, finally! I know, I am one to talk, I feel like I have played phone tag with the whole team lately, how can one hour of time difference mean so much? I can't believe nobody took me up on my Mardi Gras invitation, but I know how hectic work gets. Billy, however, is beside himself thinking y'all don't trust his hosting abilities; that's just Billy being dramatic, I am constantly amazed how he could ever work SWAT even if it was a desk job. You let me know on that girl's weekend, say the word and it is on! Remember to pack your sport liver though._

_Mac and I did catch up, finally, glad to hear he finally got back to Cozi's, I think it had been too long for him. All of us our bad about not taking time for ourselves, but I swear that man is the most pig-headed of them all (which given the amount of stubborn men we work with is saying something). I am sure you are making sure he takes care of himself, I am so happy he has you in his life. I am glad you are in mine as well, I am realizing more and more every single day how important family is, and how much y'all are my family. Enough waxing poetic, yes I am working to whip things into shape here, though I am at a loss about how to do so. It is glaringly obvious how important a good team is, but even with that...well, yes, the lab is as bad as it looks and then some. To say nothing of the incompetence and corruption. Evidence go missing between points A and B all the time, chain of custody is something people laugh at and in the land of the 4 day work week, not a lot is getting processed. I never have been as intense as you, especially since I don't know my way around a lab, but I often wish I could channel you on getting things done around here. Now you probably won't come to visit because you are afraid I will put you to work the entire time. I wouldn't, not the entire time at least._

_Yeah, that case sounds like one for the books, though it pales in comparison to some of the stuff around here. Add crazy, except we like to call it eccentric and take it out on the town, to a lot of free-flowing alcohol and a big belief in spirits and voodoo, it would make your hair uncurl (see what I did there?)! It is sad about that guy's friends and the girls. I shudder to think at the choices some girls make, feeling like they don't have any other options. We have to make sure we help raise Lucy right! Yes, I think you could clean up down here, you gorgeous and intelligent woman. Of course, I think you should clean up anywhere and any sane man who doesn't want you, might not actually be sane. So there. I am not really sure what is happening with Flack and I. We've talked a couple of times and traded emails and I am working really hard on putting some ghosts to rest, but I still don't know where I stand with him. I worry that part of him will never get over Jess, and that maybe he loved her more than he ever did me. I wouldn't blame him, she didn't have a crazy decoder ring because she didn't know anything about crazy. You can have all the margarita nights you want, promise! I gotta go, I have a dinner date...with a gay man. That is my life._

_To New York With Love,_

_Gus_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Luck of the Irish (Reed & Flack)**

Gus felt her phone buzz, grumbling as she looked at the crowd surrounding her, there was no way she could hear anything in this mess. She knew it wasn't work, the one good thing about working inactive cases was that you didn't get called in on your days off, plus she was standing with her temporary boss a couple of blocks from his Irish Channel house. Gus drew her phone out of her pocket to see who was calling her. Reed, it had been far too long since she had talked to him, crap, had she even told him she was doing this LEEP thing? "Hey, cuz," she shouted into the phone, hoping he could hear her.

"Gus, where are you, it's barely noon, why is it so loud?" Reed said, trying to figure out where his cousin was, but also wanting to get her to agree to help him. "I hate to call you, but I kind of need your help with a friend. He's in trouble but kind of cop shy."

Gus made a face, nope, she hadn't told him. "I would love to help you, Reed, but, I'm kind of in New Orleans."

"On vacation?" a tinge of worry had crept into Reed's already anxious voice.

"Sort of, I am here on an assignment," she ducked so she didn't get hit with a bunch of carrots flying off the float.

Reed tried to figure out why some many people were screaming in the background, "what kind of assignment?"

"Working on cleaning up their cold cases, it's a mess, but right now I am at the St. Patrick's day parade. I would love to help you, but if you need something in New York, you better call Mac."

Reed groaned, "that is exactly what I was trying to avoid."

"Yeah, well I am trying to avoid being concussed by a root vegetable. Mac is only as scary as you let him be. If your friend is really in trouble, he should welcome any help he can get."

"Fine, I'll call him, but at some point when you aren't having things thrown at you, call me and tell me what is going on with you, please?"

Gus smiled, "I will, I promise, watch your back, Reed, love you!"

"Boyfriend back in New York?" Colston inquired as she hung up, handing her a cabbage he had plucked out of the air a nanosecond before it hit her.

"Quit digging, Colston, cousin, long story and thanks," she said, gesturing to the offending green orb.

"Not a problem, one more to add to the pile for the wife," he said, throwing it into the sack at his feet.

Gus made a face, "your wife actually cooks with the stuff you catch?"

Colston nodded, "she does, one year I caught a whole corned beef, frozen."

"So did I, didn't mean I ate it," she shot back before walking out of range to call Mac and give him a heads up on Reed's incoming call.

Gus came walking back, pleased that Mac took the news fairly well, though he also sounded distracted. This time she didn't have time to duck before a potato struck her in the face. "Ow, crap!" she yelped.

"Need a beer, Broussard?" Colston asked her, pointing to the keg in the neutral ground behind them.

"It better not be green," she grumbled.

* * *

Gus finally found herself back Uptown many hours later, after being filled with what she had to admit was delicious 'float stew' from Colston's wife, maybe a few too many Guinness and talking about her plans for last couple of months in New Orleans, wanting nothing more than a soak in the tub.

Gus stood over the tub as it filled with hot water and bubbles, debating ignoring the text message that just buzzed on her phone, but curiosity inevitable won, she wanted to know what happened with Reed and his friend. _Sunshine, just got finished with a case and since you know I refuse to drink green beer on this high holy day, thought you might want to video chat, kind of miss your face. -Flack_

Gus looked in the mirror over the tub, god no, she did not want to video chat. Clad in her towel, she realized was more than a little sunburned, her hair was frizzing in the steam of the bathroom, the potato had left its mark under her right eye and the beads she had just taken off had dyed her neck and chest green. However, she really didn't want to miss an opportunity to reconnect with Don. Thank god Billy wasn't here to hear her debating, he would have freaked out and given her a full makeover before letting her get on the computer. Mind you in her current state it probably wouldn't hurt. She picked up the phone, a call would have to suffice.

"Flack," he answered curtly.

"Hey, it's me," she said, trying not to feel wounded at his tone.

"Hey, yourself, was hoping you were going to pop up on my computer, thought the call was dispatch again."

Gus tried to not breathe a sigh of relief, she still felt on eggshells around him. "Nope, just me. Hope you don't mind just the phone call, I am kind of in a state." She turned off the water, the bubbles piling high.

Don couldn't help but smile, only able to imagine what trouble Gus had gotten into in New Orleans on St. Patrick's Day. "Rough day?"

"Let's just say the luck of the Irish was not with me," Gus replied, piling her hair on top of her head.

"Obviously not, I'm up here," he teased.

"Don't be cute, Flack, it's not very, OW!" she exclaimed as she stepped into far too hot water.

Flack felt torn between bemusement and concern, "you alright, sunshine?"

"Yes, just very hot water on my sunburn, but I have to get this stupid green dye off," she grumbled.

He tried to make sense of what she was saying. "How did you get sunburned in March and do I even want to know why you are dyed green?"

"Parade, beads, same way I got my black eye, though that was from a potato," Gus tried to explain as she slid down into the bubbles.

Flack heard the rustling and telltale sloshing sounds, he gulped, wishing even more that she had taken him up on the video chat offer. "Hey, Gus?"

"Yeah?" Gus tried to figure out his change of tone, he probably was thinking she was an idiot.

"Are you in the tub?" He tried to ignore the fact that his words were slightly strangled by the mental image he now had of her, wet and soapy.

"Yes." Yep, he definitely thought she was an idiot, a taking a potato to the face idiot.

Flack made a small strangled noise, which Gus thought was him trying to not snicker. "Just don't drop the phone, I've feel like I've barely got to talk to you this week."

"I've had this phone for almost a year, Don, I am not a complete wreck, just most-crap!"

This time he did laugh, "you almost just dropped the phone, didn't you?"

"Shut it. So what was this case you just wrapped up, did it involve any leprechauns?" Gus was desperate to change the subject, feeling increasingly vulnerable talking to him naked and wet, despite having done so countless times before. It just magnified the distance that still existed between them.

Flack grinned again, feeling like his own pot of gold was on the other end of the line, he just didn't have the rainbow to get there. "Only one leprechaun actually, and I laid him out flat."

"You laid out a leprechaun?"

"He was in my way, stupid mascot in the parade and I was chasing a suspect and Danny couldn't keep up."

"Probably because you are half a foot taller than him, did you catch the suspect, you must have otherwise you would be calling."

"Yeah, me and some of the NYPD bagpipe guys cornered him. They were none to happy about having to fill out incident reports instead of their gullets, but what are you going to do?"

"Lay out a Leprechaun, apparently," Gus teased, enjoying the easy banter between them, hoping it could last.

"So what have you been up to lately on your little break from the city?" Judging by the slight change in his tone, Gus was guessing it couldn't. He must believe she had run away again and still hadn't forgiven her for the last time. Perhaps they were a lost cause.

"It is hardly a vacation, Don, if anyone would actually take me up on coming to visit, I can show you what a shit show the NOPD is. She pinched herself for the anger in her voice, that clearly wasn't going to help things.

Flack's tone softened, he realized how she must have taken his words. "Hey now, I know it isn't, I just don't know what to call it. And I would love to take you up on your offer, but criminals just can't seem to take a break either. Everyone would like to take you up on your offer, a lot of people miss you, Broussard, me first in line."

"Offer is always available, lord knows Billy has too many guest bedrooms."

Flack wanted to ask what he would need his own guest bedroom for, but held back. "I'll keep that in mind." He felt suddenly overwhelmed, missing her, wanting her back, still trying to deal with everything that had happened, not to mention being exhausted from the case, he was at a loss as to how to say everything he wanted to. "I should let you go, take care of that sunburn and whatever else. Talk to you later."

Gus' stomach plummeted as she tried to figure out how the conversation had veered off track. "Sure thing, it was nice talking to you."

"You too," he paused long enough to Gus to check to see if he had hung up before hearing, "and Gus, I really do miss you." This time, the silence was because he had hung up.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Like Adults (Mac)**

Gus had just climbed into bed, feeling a little deflated from the end of her otherwise nice conversation with Flack when her email notification pinged. "Aren't I popular today?" she remarked, pulling up the email.

**Gus,**

**Thanks for convincing Reed to call me, his friend was definitely in over his head. I won't go into all the details, but it did involve (fake) gold, a four-leaf clover and green beer. Only on St. Patrick's Day. I was also reminded that you and Reed are actual blood relatives. Stubborn, persistent, willful and strangely optimistic blood relatives. It is a good thing though, most of the time. Especially when it makes the people around you better versions of themselves, something I think both of you are more adept at than you realize. Which is why I thought to write you. Reed convinced me to take a chance, and while I know he was talking about helping his friend (which I did, so thank you for having him call me), I also did with a woman I met at the deli. We had dinner tonight and it was nice. I don't know if it will go anywhere, but I wanted to let you know up front, as I know I didn't handle things well with Peyton and I wish you would have been up front with me about Don. Maybe we should try being a little more honest with each other in the future, act like adults, since we both are. Keep in touch, hope all is well, I am certain you are teaching them a thing or two and stop trying to get my team to come down there. Love, Mac**

Gus couldn't help but smile at her uncle's news or gentle chiding. She also felt like maybe she should listen to her younger cousin and take more chances, like chancing getting her heart broken forever by being straight with Flack. Perhaps she should just act like it was a band-aid and face all the pain at once. Even if he turned her down, at least she would know and could move on with her life.

"Nice shiner," Colston remarked, waiting for Gus outside the trailer.

"Nice sunburn," Gus retorted, pointing to Colston's red dome, happy her burn had already faded to a golden brown.

Colston patted it gently, "yeah, it's what I get for not wearing a hat, happens every year, if not St. Patty's then the French Quarter Fest."

Gus just looked at him, wondering what he was doing there, considering they had just talked about her plan for the rest of the time she was there. "I am getting the feeling this isn't a social call, sir," she said, opening the door to the trailer.

Colston stepped in, looking around in amazement once again at how she had transformed the endless towers. "As you know, we have a new Mayor."

"Thank god for that," Gus said, pulling her hair into a bun, ready to get to work.

"Indeed, anyway, he is all about cleaning up this city beyond just giving it a fresh coat of paint. He wants to overhaul the NOPD and he has a lot of good ideas on how to do so. One of the things he is keenly interested in setting up a cold case squad, another is a state of the art forensics center over at the new health sciences campus."

"Good, you need both, badly," Gus said, gesturing.

Colston nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything more right away, he was trying to test to waters. Gus just looked at him, moving around him to grab a box. Finally he gave up, "you want in?"

"In what, sir?" Gus said, pretty sure she knew what he was getting at, but wanting him to come out with it.

"Whoever is in charge of the new squad will need a great team under them, someone who could also work well with the forensics lab. Could be a great opportunity for you."

Gus stopped what she was doing, putting a case binder down forcefully but keeping her tone steady, "I am sure it would be sir, but I am pretty sure I belong in New York." Gus wished she could say she was positive, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure she wanted to live in the same city as Don Flack and not have him as her own and she wasn't at all sure where they stood.

"Pretty sure isn't positive, just think about it, would you? You don't have to decide anything now, he doesn't even take office for a few weeks. Feel free to put some feelers back in New York, too, see if any of those lab rats of yours want a change of scenery. Real estate is a hell of a lot less expensive down here, might be enough to convince someone to move."

Thinking of what her mortgage bill would have been if she hadn't been insured to the hilt as well as knowing how pay check to pay check many of her friends had to live because of rent, she knew he wasn't out of line in reasoning, but she also knew how happy everyone seemed in New York. "I highly doubt I can convince anyone to move down here, but I'll humor you. Now if you'll humor me, I have a few binders with my name on them."

"Sure thing, keep up the good work, Broussard," Colston said, before disappearing back towards the justice complex.

"Might not be the worst thing ever," Chanda said later when Gus was telling her about her visit from Colston.

"Might not be the best either," Gus said, making notations on the spreadsheet she had open.

"You aren't married, you don't have kids, what is keeping you there? Cost of living is a hell of a lot cheaper down here and they are finally starting to pay us closer to what we are worth. New Mayor's planning on bumping that even more.

Gus turned, stretching, "it isn't about the money, Chanda. Yes, I know if you grew up in New Orleans you aren't ever supposed to want to leave, but that isn't the case for me. I don't have the whole mom and 'em thing going for me. Anyone I would call family is in New York, that is home for me now. I already tried to move back here once and it ended...poorly," she ended, about to turn back around.

"Oh I know all about the last time you were back here. My daddy knows McCay, he retired after that crazy summer, said you had run him ragged and his ass was getting to old for that crap."

"Ran him ragged, McCay spent most of his time sitting on a bar stool waiting for me to bring in the collars!" Gus protested.

Chanda laughed, "that sounds about right." She went back to her own stack of binders and spreadsheets, both working in silence for a while until her curiosity got the better of her. "Broussard?" she said, laughing as Gus jumped.

"Yeah?" Gus asked, barely looking up.

"You want to tell me about the hot guy you are hiding from in New York?"

Gus only briefly stopped typing, quickly retorting with, "why do you think there is a hot guy or that I am hiding?"

"Seriously, sugar? Come on now, I know you may not be part of your old Uptown crowd anymore, but you still have too much New Orleans blood running through your veins. Hence, he must be really hot to have you going back to New York. But you haven't had any visitors, so I know you must be hiding. Come out with it, tell Chanda your sad story, it will make you feel better."

Gus spun around in her chair to face her co-worker. "You are frighteningly perceptive, sure you aren't a detective?" Chanda just patiently waited. "Yes, he is crushingly and devastatingly handsome. But I am not hiding, we both just needed some time away from each other to work out some things. You don't want to hear my sad story, nor do we have that kind of time to rehash nearly five years of drama."

"Try me, short version is fine," Chanda pushed on, not only because she was wondering about all she had heard, but also because the other woman looked like she was fighting being haunted half the time.

"Katrina, forcibly evacuated, uncle with NYPD, got me job as psychologist, finally became cop, hot partner becomes more than just a work partner, asks me to marry him, I freak out and come here, work my ass off but hate every second of it, go back to New York, too stubborn to admit I am wrong, hot partner finds other girl who is also a detective, she gets killed while we are working a case together but I am fine because I am wearing the vest of another detective I slept with the night before, hot partner goes off the deep end with drinking, I go off the deep end with anger and guilt, we go off the deep end together until I realize we both might drown, enter LEEP program and, as you said, me hiding here. That about cover it for you?" Gus said with a smirk.

Chanda's eyes got wide, "whoa, that is a lot and somehow I feel like I am missing a bunch of information."

"Hundred of pages worth," Gus shot back, turning back to her computer.

"Humph," Chanda replied when Gus did not elaborate.

"Yeah well, I tried to tell you. Also, I don't feel better."

"Neither do I, now," Chanda grumbled.


	6. Counting Updates

**Chapter 17: Between Us (Stella)**

Gus mostly forgot about or ignored her discussion with both Colston and Chanda as a team finally formed to work through the water damaged evidence in the basement. Gus was overjoyed at the initiative being taken by the new mayor, so much so that she didn't even mind spending nearly every waking minute covered in filth in the caverns of the basement at Tulane and Broad. She was mostly able to keep the flashbacks from that fateful August day at bay, though her nightmares did start to creep back as her subconscious wrestled with the literal and figurative flood waters. She was starting to believe that maybe she would emerge from this experience stronger and a whole person, one that was with it enough to fight to get Don Flack back. At least until she received Stella's letter and found a decaying box she didn't even knew existed from eighteen years before.

She hadn't been looking for it, mostly because she was told that there wasn't anything to look for, that records had been lost years ago, that the suspect had stolen the memo book, that there must have been someone on the inside who made everything else disappear. She hadn't looked for it before because she had spent so much time fighting becoming a cop, because she trusted the NOPD's Chief of Detectives, because when she was back last time she couldn't get within 100 yards of Tulane and Broad, because she was clocking 1300 hours in twelve weeks trying to punish herself for the biggest mistake of her life. She hadn't looked for it in the past four months because she was sorting through a trailer full of boxes, because she wasn't focusing on those ghosts, because a basement full of mold and compromised evidence was the least of her worries, or so she had thought.

It was on a collapsed shelving unit, mixed in with old B&E cases, nowhere near the mostly empty homicide racks that had been the first things moved out to the trailer. These boxes were all intermingled on the twisted pile of metal, the waterlogged cardboard first dissolving and then disintegrating as they sat baking, molding, rotting. Papers congealed together in a ink-stained, blotted mess, evidence bags now brittle, flaking apart at the lightest touch. Gus wasn't even dealing with such cases, she had merely been trying to clear a path so the team could separate out the high priority DNA cases the Innocence Project was making a large public and political stink about now that word had gotten out about the new mayor's plans. She didn't even recognize it until she peeled off what was left of a box lid and was about to toss it aside. Her mind couldn't even make sense of what she was seeing, like staring at a word so long it looks like it is spelled incorrectly. "What the-" she said, stopping with the lid midair. She pulled it back towards her, looking at it as though it were a bomb. It couldn't be, it wasn't possible. But there it was, in former black and white, now faded and molded: **Broussard Case 47895-H 12/1992**

"Hey, Broussard, you still down here?" she heard a voice call from another section of the basement.

"Yeah, over here, just trying to-" she croaked out, realizing she was shaking. "Think we need to find another path in," she said after clearing her throat.

"No problem, there's a clearer exit this way anyhow. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't been bitten by a snake or anything."

"I'm fine, I'm just going to take five," Gus said, already pulling off her mask and gloves and running for the stairs.

Her parents' murder box, she had found her parents' nonexistent murder box. The one her father's old partner had said never existed, the suspect having taken her father's memo book from his dead body, the case binder stolen from their house after he slit her mother's throat, the evidence from his prior cases checked out by a fake detective from the basement the same day. What the hell did this mean and what the hell was she supposed to do about it?

Gus finally collected herself, knowing she had to get through the rest of the day as normal as possible before she stole a sodden mass of evidence from the basement of the Orleans Parish Justice Complex. Of course who could count it as stealing if it supposedly didn't exist, right? At least that was what Gus kept telling herself as she excavated the remnants of the murder box by flashlight later that night.

"What on earth is that, sugar, it looks like a science experiment gone wrong!" Billy exclaimed as Gus lugged in a plastic tub through the back door.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Gus said, wiping her forehead and grimacing at the dirt left on her hand.

Billy handed her a towel, "how many times have I told you to not bring your nasty ass work home with you? Work is for work, off time is for play!"

Gus wiped her face, but pointed to the papers scattered on the kitchen island, "because that looks like so much fun!"

"End of the month paperwork, payroll, taxes, the glamorous life of a small business owner. And it is a nightclub, so I am allowed to work at night."

"I thought you of all people would have someone to do that for you," Gus quipped, pawing through the fridge for a beer.

"I did, but business is down, so I am doing it myself, wouldn't want to have ask Mama for money. Now get your grubby hands out of my pristine refrigerator and go take a shower, you look like something a possum dragged up!"

"It is a good thing I love you, William Brooks," Gus grumbled, removing herself from the fridge and opening the beer, flicking the cap toward the trash and missing by feet. She knew Billy was right, she was a disgusting mess, but how else was she supposed to extract eighteen year old flooded out evidence if not by getting a little dirty?

"And I love you, Augusta Broussard, but please, shower, now, and I suggest you do it before you try to read the latest pile of mail from your New York fan club." He shot her a look, knowing that hearing she had mail waiting for her would be the quickest way to get her up to her room.

"Ay, ay Captain," she replied, already heading for the stairs.

* * *

Ignoring Billy, she sat down on her bed, tearing open the letter from Stella with voraciousness, feeling like she needed some of the woman's pragmatism in her life. Gus didn't even care that she left smudges of grime on the otherwise pristine paper.

_Dear Gus,_

_I know I should go home, I woke up on my office couch again, after another long day, another tragic case, but somehow, I can't make myself go home to my empty apartment. Not that the mostly empty lab is better. So here, I am, feeling out of sorts and writing you a letter._

_I wonder what it is like for you, back there in New Orleans, and I don't mean all the festivals, food, and booze you keep trying to play up, I mean back in a place that is so familiar, yet has brought you so much pain. Though I suppose you've had your fair share of pain here in the city, haven't we all. More, I wonder what it is like for you going through all those cold cases, the damaged evidence, surrounded by restless spirits who may never be laid to rest. You've done it here, too. I've seen you, boxes walling you into your desk, an endless stream of cases with dead ends in every sense. But you've stuck with them, tenacious, unrelenting, unyielding, even when everyone else has given up hope._

_After this most recent case, I admire you even more for that. I can see you blushing, telling me it is the other way around, that you haven't been a cop as long as I have and you don't deserve my admiration. I think in many ways, you have been a detective for most of your life, seeking answers to questions everyone else is unwilling to ask. You are probably wondering what I am going on about, and the truth is, I'm not really sure, except, I closed a case today, more than one, actually, but in closing them, I opened many things that I don't know how to resolve._

_You see the last time you were down in New Orleans, a young woman came into the station, with a hat from her brother, missing for umpteen years, wanting to see if we could get his DNA into the system. Marina was so determined to find her brother Luke, it seemed like her sole focus in life. She called me, every single Monday without fail. You know those calls, the ones that can't let go until they get answers; the ones I know the boys in the pit shove off on you because you put your therapist hat on and handle them like they were calling to check on a parking ticket. She called last Monday, told me she had figured it all out, and then, she ended up on Sid's table. Sid, Mac, Flack, all of them, tried to say it was a suicide, but I knew it wasn't possible. She had reason to live, she wouldn't have done that. Despite prints and evidence and a note, I knew she wasn't finished, she hadn't found her brother yet, I knew she hadn't given up. She hadn't, her stepfather had accidentally killed her brother, had hidden his body in his textile shop. She witnessed it, but shoved it so deep inside, that she forgot about it. Repressed memories, I know you know all about those, and I think not just professionally._

_We had to piece it together, in all its fragmented way, with a french fry that wasn't a french fry (you'll have to get Lindsay to explain that one) and nickle woven memory fabric (ask Danny) and an astute pretty ER doctor (ask Mac) and me almost getting drowned in a pool until Flack pulled me out (ask him about how he thinks Shake Shake is an appropriate last meal)...it was quite the caveat. We pieced it together and arrested Marina's stepfather. The sad thing was, he didn't have to kill her, she was letting it go, even though she remembered what she saw, he killed her for nothing, all she wanted was her freedom, a fresh start._

_Which got me to thinking. Flack mentioned how we all have Marina's, I know it is true, Mac has that damn stack of cases on the corner of his desk, you have your endless piles of file boxes, we all do have those cases we can't let go of. I can't help but think what would it be like to help people put things to rest, to let things go, to give them their freedom and a fresh start? What would it be like to have my own fresh start?_

_What I am trying to say is, and I have to swear you to complete secrecy on this is, I have been thinking about what you said the last time we talked, about the new mayor of New Orleans and plans for a new lab, and how you have tried to sort out years of Marina Garitos and I have to think, maybe the universe is trying to tell me I should at least consider becoming the Mac of New Orleans. I haven't decided anything for sure, but maybe you could give me the number of that Lieutenant you were telling me about? A girl should always have her options after all._

_Now that I've poured all that out to you, I should probably head home, the night shift is starting to give me evil looks._

_Keep this between us,_

_Stella_

* * *

**Chapter 18: Tough Cop (Flack)**

Gus sat on her bed, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, too much had been unearthed today, that was for sure. And now she was burdened with two secrets, finding her parents' murder box and Stella interested in the head of the lab job in New Orleans. It was more than she could take. She almost didn't want to open the other letters, though she was glad she did after reading short but humorous notes from Adam and Lindsay, all telling her about the Garito case and the odds and ends of the lab. She almost didn't see the piece of paper from Flack, as it was folded in a larger envelope forwarded from Piroleaux, bills and HOA minutes from her co-op board. She stared at it, trying to make sense of his scrawl, far worse than Sheldon's chicken scratch. Gus was suddenly happy Flack had mainly emailed or called her, certain she would not be able to make out all his words.

_Sunshine,_

_I'm sure someone (Stella) has told you about the Marina Garito case, a cold turned hot case if there ever was one. I still don't understand how you can do so well with cold cases, but there are a few things I am still trying to figure out about you, even after almost five years of knowing you. I made a phone call today, one someone should have done a while ago. John Brennan, you know him the one who calls the station house once a month, whose wife was murdered, I know that call has been passed to you more than once, and you handle it, like you always do. Us guys shovel a lot of shit your way don't we? Anything involving feelings, I think. But you aren't here to handle it, and I realize part of what we are both supposed to be doing is facing down things we have run from, so I called him. I don't know if it helped, or if we'll even find the guy that murdered his wife, but at least it was a start, at least I could let him know that somebody cares enough to not shove his wife's case on a shelf in a box somewhere. I know that is what I would want if the love of my life was murdered. Talking to him, listening to the pain in his voice, it brought up a lot for me. I kept thinking about trying to stop Angell from bleeding out on that diner floor, seeing you in that hospital bed with your throat slit, that look of pain in your eyes when I punched that hole in the wall beside your head, the look of love in your eyes when I put my grandmother's ring on your finger in that alley, how you let me use you after the Truby case and after Jess died, how even though you have run away from us being us that you seem to still always be there for me, how I don't deserve you...as I said, a lot. So I made another phone call, to your old buddy McNair, off the books though, I think I am going to need a little help working through everything. I figured if you were willing to go back to a place that you wrecked yourself in the last time, I should be willing to ask for some help wading through my shit. I know he won't have all the answers, I've know you long enough to know he's just supposed to be a lantern or some crap (just kidding, stop looking at me like that), I have to find my answers myself. I hope I do, just like I hope you do. And I hope your answers lead you back here. Soon. I would never admit it to anyone, except you on this piece of paper, and most likely Piroleaux because he is probably reading this, but I miss you so much it hurts to breathe sometimes. Some tough cop I am turning out to be, huh? Love, Don_

Gus swallowed, not even realizing she was crying until the tears hit the page, smearing the ink. She didn't know what to make of his letter, except to know he missed her as much as she missed him. But the first thing he had mentioned in his string of declarations was Jess, would he always be thinking of her somewhere in the back of his mind? Would her face always be imprinted on his heart? Could she live with that, possibly being second, even if she had loved him first? She hastily wiped away her tears as she heard the soft knock on her door.

"Hey, Gus, just wanted to see if you wanted some dinner," Billy asked from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, sure, I just, gotta shower first," she said, hastily shoving the paper back in the envelope.

"You still haven't showered yet? You aren't sitting on the comforter like that, are you?" Billy implored.

Gus looked down, realizing the streaks of grime marring the white eyelet surface. "I will have it cleaned, Tibs, just let a girl have a few moments peace, okay?"

"Sure thing, sugar," he replied, though he couldn't help but think she wasn't going to find that peace tonight.

Gus waited until Billy finally left to go help out at the club, knowing that her alarm would be going off not that long from then, but willing to sacrifice the sleep. She stared at the tub, or more accurately, at the indistinguishable mass inside. There was no hearty binder, keeping things in order; no tell-tale plastic evidence bags, just a ball of soggy papers mostly dried together and what Gus presumed at one point had been paper evidence bags, the tape washed away in the flood waters. She poked at the pile, wondering if the dark specks were mold, fabric or blood. She shuddered, and then sneezed, glad she couldn't really contaminate anything as she wondered what she might be breathing in.

Gus almost wished she hadn't come across the damn thing, better to just think there was no evidence, that her parents' death was the ultimate, unsolvable cold case. But here she was, with this disgusting tub, wondering if it might be the key to removing the curse that always seemed to be hanging over her. She pondered this until frustration and exhaustion got the better of her, when she shoved the tub under the antique four poster bed, vowing to come back to it when she was in a better space, if she could ever get in a better space, that was.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Keep You Updated (Multiple)**

Gus tried fervently to forget the ticking time bomb hidden underneath the antique four-poster bed. She couldn't do anything at this point anyway, she did have the tools or the skills needed to try to unlock whatever secrets contained within. She thought about going to confront her father's old partner, the current Chief of Detectives, to rail at him about the blue line and loyalty. She held back, however, figuring either he didn't know and he did, she wasn't sure which scenario was worse.

Gus also tried to forget about Stella's revelation that she was thinking about applying for the head of the crime lab in New Orleans, sure that Mac and the rest of the team would blame her if they lost Stella. Colston made that more difficult than just hiding a tub under a bed, almost giddily passing along that he had already linked Stella up with the recently elected mayor.

Yes, Gus tried to forget, just putting her head down and forging through, something that had served her well time and time again in both cities. She wanted to have the trailer completely in order before her time in New Orleans was up and the basement well on its way, even if she had to start sleeping under her desk. She was actually debating the merits of a nap under hers when her phone rang late one evening.

"Broussard," Gus answered without even looking, deep into a binder.

"Gus, I'm glad I got you," Flack said, his voice sounding strained. Gus could hear what sounded like a commotion over a speakerphone in the back.

"Yeah, me too, but what's going on, you sound busy," Gus stopped chewing on her pen, setting it down and closing the binder.

"I am, on the phone with tactical," Flack said, holding up his finger to Mac and Stella.

Gus raised her eyebrows, "did you just call to rub it in, to let me know how much more exciting your job is than mine?"

"More than you know. Look Gus, are you sitting down?" Flack's voice had an edge to it that caused Gus' heart to clench.

"Don, what is going on, you are scaring me!" she implored.

He cleared his throat, "it's Sheldon."

"Is he dead?" Gus squeaked out.

"Not yet," Flack replied, looking at the photograph of the rioting Hawkes had sent.

"What is going on? Do I need to fly up there?" Gus asked, already gathering her belongings.

"No! Sit tight, Hawkes got caught up in a prison riot, he was going to witness an execution and something went sideways and now he is in there and so is Shane Casey and it is a mess and we are trying to figure out how to get him out. I just thought you should know, I wanted you to hear it from me. But stay there, we will get him out, safe and alive. Don't worry."

At the mention on Shane Casey's name, Gus felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach lurch, going back to Danny's letter. What was that madman playing it? "That's a hell of a lot easier to say than do, Flack!" she shot back, feeling torn on if she should heed his command to stay put.

"I know it is, Gus. Look, I gotta go, but I'll keep you updated, I promise."

As he hung up, Gus couldn't help but think about the tub under her bed, surer than ever that something about her parents' death was going to keep haunting her. A feeling that she was cursed and that everyone she cared about would be in danger until she figured out who murdered her parents.

This feeling didn't go away, even as Flack sent her updates, even when he called her to let her know Sheldon was safe, even when she heard Sheldon's voice with her own ears, sounding relieved and very much alive.

"I'm fine Gus, really!"

"I know, but just, stay that way alright? And don't go all macho on me and not check in with staff psych if you have any nightmares. I just think this may have brought up a lot of unresolved issues for you and combined with the trauma-"

Sheldon cut her off, "look at you going all doc on me, I am fine, Gus and I will go see your old buddies if I need to, I promise. I feel more at peace with a lot of things about Maya than I have in a long time. Now what about you, are you working through everything? Because I know a lot of people that are counting down the days until you get back. Except Piroleaux, I don't think he wants to give up your place."

This finally got Gus to laugh, "I am not surprised, his place is a hole. And I am getting there, Shel, I promise. Counting down the days, huh?"

"I am pretty sure Flack never owned a calendar before, but it is up now, full of red Xs. Don't tell him I told you that though, alright?"

"Your secret is safe with me, Sheldon, they always are. Speaking of which, I will get on to you later about not telling me about your sister when I have cried on your shoulder countless times. Friendship is a two-way street, bub!"

"I know Gus, and I would happily take an earful, in person," he paused, Gus could hear the sound of machines notifying me in the background, "but right now, I have to get these results. Take care of yourself."

"Back at you!" Gus said, hanging up the phone.

* * *

The feeling continued to stay with her, as she went through the motions, as Billy tried to convince her to take a day off, as Chanda chided her for staying too late. It weighed down her shoulders and her heart as she called everyone back in New York to check in nearly daily, worried about their safety, worried about Shane Casey being in the wind. It made her sound anxious enough to cause them all to grow concerned, to wonder if maybe she shouldn't have taken this assignment. It tinged her voice with desperate worry, making Flack want to tell Daddino and the New Orleans Lieutenant to screw themselves, to send her a ticket back home to his side, where she belonged.

Flack stopped in his tracks where he was pacing the halls of the lab. How long did it take to extract a damn body from concrete anyway? This case was going nowhere until they had an id and he was already over getting nothing out of the union guys. He didn't blame them, they hadn't gotten a fair shake in the latest round of talks and deals, but he couldn't justify the killing of a scab just trying to feed his family. Assuming the DB was a scab.

He had avoided the pit all day, worried he would tell Daddino where to stick it and buy Gus a ticket back home. His reason for stopping was coming from the lab beside him, the lab where Adam was working on identifying trace. Even though it the glass muffled it, Flack could hear a familiar voice coming through the speakerphone.

Adam was on the phone with Gus, performing one of her ever-increasing check ins, worried that Shane Casey was going off the deep end and was planning on taking the team with them. Flack didn't entirely fault Gus for her trepidation, Casey was a loose cannon and Gus had seen more than anyone's fair share of death and destruction. That didn't stop him from worrying about her, as he had been since the second she left him in his apartment that night when he all but chased her out-of-town himself.

He could hear Adam fumbling over his words as he tried vainly to convince her that he was fine, though Flack was well aware by the tone of her voice that there would be no placating her. She had her teeth sunk into this worry, had since he told her about Hawkes and the prison riot. He kicked himself for calling her that night, but knew if he hadn't, she would have been livid and that wouldn't help their current situation at all.

Flack strode into the lab, intent on trying to rescue Adam from Gus' mother hen routine. The other man's head shot up as soon as Flack entered, his eyes catching the tall detective's and growing rounder. Flack cocked his head to the side, wondering why Adam suddenly looked paler. What exactly had he and Gus been talking about?

"Oh, Flack, uh, hey! Gus, I gotta run, but yeah, I'll, uh, think about it, alright?" Adam said, dropping the phone back into the receiver like it was on fire. "I don't have anything back on the trace yet, sorry," he said, looking up to the detective towering over him.

Flack crossed his arms over his chest, flexing slightly, a smirk playing across his face. "Figured you didn't, just heard Gus on the phone, thought I would come in, see what you two were chatting about." He didn't really think anything was going on between the pair, Gus had mentioned having to navigate around Adam's crush on her, how she really saw him more like Reed than anything. Didn't stop Flack from enjoying torturing the lab rat a little.

"Nothing, we weren't talking about anything. I mean obviously we were talking about something because you could hear her on speakerphone, but it wasn't really about anything important, she was just checking in and stuff, she seems really worried about this whole Casey thing and I was trying to tell her-" Adam cut off, noticing Flack's jaw clench, taking in the other man's arms across his muscular chest. Crap. He knew how much Flack still loved Gus, even when he was crushing on her he knew this, knew he didn't stand a chance. There wasn't anything going on between him and Gus, but the look on Flack's face told him he wasn't convinced. "Please don't hit me, at least not in the face!" Adam pleaded.

Flack replied with a loud guffaw, he had tried to hold back his laughter as Adam became more and more flustered, his face the color of a tomato. "Ross, I ain't gonna hit you, I just thought I would try to catch her since I had a down minute, that was all. Why are you freaking out?"

Adam heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm not!" he meekly protested, "it's just..." he trailed off, pushing his stool back away from the station, putting more distance between him and Flack. "She keeps bugging me to come visit, all of us, she keeps bugging all of us to come visit, I mean I am sure she has probably asked you to come like a million more times." Flack just nodded, raising his eyebrows, waiting for the other man to come out with it. "Well, I have all this vacation time and I was thinking of using some of it to go see her for Jazz Fest." Something flickered in Flack's eyes, Adam couldn't pinpoint what it was. "It's this big outdoor music festival, at their racetrack, tons of cool bands, big label ones, these awesome indie ones and lots of food..."

"I know what Jazz Fest is, Ross, Gus has given me a primer on the many festivals of Louisiana, she has a damn calendar of them. Prioleaux won't quit bitching about missing it either."

"So what, what is it? Are you cool if I go? It would just be me going as, like, a bro."

"Yeah, of course I would be cool with it. Just wish I could go, I'm jealous of you Ross." Flack closed the distance, giving Adam a slap on the back. Adam realized it was Flack trying to cover up how much he missed Gus that he had seen flicker in Flack's eyes. "You know what you should do, though."

"What's that, Flack?" Adam asked nervously.

"Surprise her," Flack said, seeing Stella out in the hallway, gesturing for him.

"Say what?"

"It is a fairly simple word, Adam, didn't think I would need to define it. Surprise, as it don't tell her your coming. You may want to tell her friend Billy you are coming though, I got his email address, I'll send it to ya." Flack gave him a wave before walking off to see what Stella needed from him.

"I didn't think Gus really was about surprises," Adam called after him, but Flack didn't even turn around.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Counting (Adam&Flack)**

Gus climbed the steps to the Brook's house in dark, cursing the power company once again, this was the third night this week the power had gone off randomly. No wonder Billy had gone on about getting a new generator before hurricane season. He wasn't home yet, Gus thought, or had come and gone, judging from the lack of any light or movement from within. She paused to grab the mail from the box, looking at it by the glow of her cell phone, the white of one of her envelopes to the team glowing in the beam. A smiled played at her lips as she saw Adam's return address in the upper left corner when she head the unmistakable squeak of someone shifting on the porch boards. Gus jumped, her hand going to her hip, some cop she was, she had stopped carrying her gun in its holster a couple of months ago, it now rested in the bottom of her tote bag.

A voice spoke up from behind her. "Some detective you are, didn't you notice it wasn't postmarked?" Adam said, coming out from the shadows on the porch.

"Jesus Christ, Adam, I could have shot you," she said, already launching herself at his outstretched arms.

"With what exactly?" he said, smiling into her hair as he hugged her.

"Finally, someone took me up on a visit, took y'all long enough!" she exclaimed, breaking away, "let me get us inside before the mosquitoes eat you alive, sugar."

She hustled him inside, cursing as she banged into more than one piece of heavy, antique furniture, trying to locate the battery-powered lantern. Just as she did so and manged to turn it on, the power came back on, filling the house with lights Billy must have had on before he left.

"That's going to leave a mark," Adam said, gesturing to the welt already forming on Gus' arm.

"What else is new? Now, come all the way in, throw your bag over there and tell me what the hell you are doing here. You didn't get fired did you?" Gus asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

"No, not at all. You just kept talking about Jazz Fest and there were a bunch of bands I've wanted to see anyway and I had some vacation time coming and after it not being the right guy with the pot on the gladiator case, I thought I would take you up on your offer. Flack said I should surprise you and your friend, Billy, he said it was cool if I crashed here for a couple of days. It is cool, right?" The words came pouring out of Adam's mouth as he ran his fingers through his hair nervously, the messing plus the heat creating a tangled halo.

Gus could help but laugh, "it is fine, sugar. And while I know you are used to the heat, I know you little Arizona boys have no idea what to do in humidity, so how about I get us a couple of cold drinks, I could use one after spending the day in that nasty basement." Gus gestured for Adam to sit down in the kitchen and headed to the fridge, hearing Billy chastise her in the back of her mind.

"Why are you in a basement, is that why you are so dirty?" Adam asked, sitting at the kitchen island, greedily accepting the napkin Gus handed him, she had been right about the humidity, he felt damp all over.

Gus moved about the kitchen, pouring them drinks, setting out snacks, trying to take in that Adam was actually sitting in Billy's kitchen in New Orleans. The relief and comfort of having a familiar face from New York here was almost more than she could bear. "Flack told you to surprise me?" she asked, setting everything down in front of Adam. Adam took a long drink of what he thought was sweet tea and lemonade. "Watch yourself, darling, there is a good amount of Firefly in that."

He looked at her oddly, trying to figure out why she was talking about a cult television show. "Joss Whedon?" he said, sitting down his glass, he hadn't even been here an hour and he was already confused.

"The vodka, Adam, now back to this 'surprise m'e thing," Gus answered with a laugh, fighting the urge to ruffle his hair or give him five hundred hugs while simultaneously wondering how Don could suggest Adam surprise her and not do it himself.

"Oh," Adam took another drink before continuing. "I tried to tell him I didn't think you would be all about surprises, but he just blew me off. Said something about those of us that could get the hell down here should do it. He seemed kind off..." Adam trailed off. Gus waited, trying to be patient to see what Flack had been, but the drumming of her fingers on the granite gave her impatience away. "Jealous, frustrated, pining?" Adam said, his nose wrinkling.

Gus threw back her head in a laugh at this, "pining, I would pay good money to see Don Flack pining for anyone, ever, but good try, Adam, you know how to make a girl feel special. Speaking of girls, no lady friends you wanted to bring down here on this little musical adventure?" She enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably.

"I'm between girls at the moment. Plus, I wanted to catch up with you. It has been forever since we've seen each other."

"That tends to happen when people are in two different cities, Adam!"

Adam gave her a look, "you know what I mean, Gus, even before you left, you just were dealing with a lot of...stuff."

It was Gus' turn to nearly drain her glass. "That is an understatement. Still am," she said, putting the mostly empty glass back down, thinking of the tub shoved under her bed upstairs.

Adam studied her carefully, genuinely concerned and curious. "How is that going?"

"I told off my ex-fiancee in the middle of a Mardi Gras ball, I drove out to Cajun country to tell a mother I thought I was responsible for her son's death only for her to tell me I was ridiculous, I've organized and cataloged an entire trailer full of cold homicide cases and helped work on salvaging piles of evidence from a flooded out basement, I'm practically sleeping at the office as much as Mac does, so that's how it is going." She didn't add that nearly every night her five plus months of celibacy was being exacerbated by some very non-celibate dreams involving a certain detective or that she stolen and hidden the only possible evidence in her parents' murder. Telling him either of those things would involve a whole lot more to drink. Gus realized Adam was gaping at her. "What, you asked!" she retorted, glad she had stopped short, otherwise he may have stroked out in the middle of Billy's kitchen. Billy. "So Billy knew you were coming, is that why he kept hounding me to make sure I was not working this weekend and forced a brass pass on me?"

Adam nodded with a sly grin, "maybe."

"Well come on then, let me show you to your room. Have you had dinner yet?" Gus asked, already grabbing his bag and bounding up the stairs, excited for the weekend for the first time since being back in the swamp.

* * *

"You are lucky I adore Adam Ross or you would be in big trouble, Don Flack!" Gus chided as she finally tucked into bed, exhausted from Adam's whirlwind visit three nights later.

"Adore, huh, do I need to kick Ross' ass?" Flack shot back.

Gus rolled her eyes, "you know what I mean. Having a man jump out of you on the shadows of your porch when the power is out is a good way to give a girl a heart attack or of getting someone shot!"

"I didn't know he would be hiding in the shadows or that the power would be out, Gus. I forget sometimes how literal the science guys are. Did you have a good time?"

Her smile was clear in her tone, "yeah, I did. Not as good as Adam though. At least until he ignored my warning about not mixing a mango freeze with crawfish monica, ya ka mein, boudin and cochon de lait before shaking his groove thing to My Morning Jacket."

"I'm sorry, were you still speaking English, sunshine?" Flack asked, her smile infectiously spreading one across his own face as he stretched out on his couch, popping open a beer.

"You would know what every last bit of that was if you would have been the one coming down here to jump out of the shadows at me," Gus teased.

Flack gave a small snort, "I know better than to jump out at you, you have a wicked left hook. Besides I like having you around, wouldn't want to give you a heart attack." At least not outside of the bedroom, he silently added before continuing, "it isn't that I don't want to come see you, I am missing you."

"Pining?" Gus choked out, unable to resist, thinking of how she dissolved into giggles teasing Adam about that one, the giggles threatening her once again.

"Excuse me?" Flack was trying to make out what she had just muttered.

"Nothing," Gus replied, trying to maintain her composure, "you were trying to explain how even though you supposedly frightfully miss me you can't seem to actually leave the tri-state area." Her tone was light and teasing enough to take away most of the sting Flack felt.

A strangled noise of frustration erupted from his chest, "it isn't that, Daddino put us on this damn 21 day solid backward rotation, because apparently he is either trying to kill us or make us all hate him. It's been hell."

Gus made a noise of disdain, "ugh, that is awful, no wonder you could talk at," she glanced over at the clock, "2am. How sleep deprived are you?" she asked, concern painting her tone.

Flack sighed, "don't worry about me, sunshine, I'll be fine." Thinking he was no more sleep deprived now than he had been since she left, before that even, his sleep quality greatly decreased when he didn't have her body nestled against him.

"Sure, Don, I'll just stop breathing while I'm at it," Gus replied, her own sleep deprivation giving itself away with a yawn. "Sorry about that. So how many Xs you got left to put on that calendar of yours, blue eyes?" she teased, wishing this conversation was happening with her lying on his chest, his hands tangled in her hair...

Flack growled, "I am going to kick Ross' ass."

"It was Sheldon who told me about the calendar, not Adam, sugar. Adam told me plenty of other things," she bantered, before yawning again.

"I should let you go so we both can try to get some sleep. I need my energy to kick both of their butts tomorrow."

"Yeah, I guess so, but be nice, Flack. I can't tell you how great it was seeing someone from home."

Flack's heart seemed to skip a beat as she easily called New York home, not to mention she did sound lighter and more like her old self than he had heard in far too long. "Only for you do I promise to be nice. And to answer your question, 35, assuming they are willing to let you go on time. I'll be counting down. Sweet dreams, sunshine."

"You too, Don," Gus replied, hanging up feeling better than she had in months, fervently trying to ignore the tub under the bed and thinking 35 days couldn't possibly be enough time to put those last spirits to rest.


	7. Issues

**Chapter 21: What's Up Doc? (Flackcentric)**

Bolstered by Adam's visit and her conversation with Flack, Gus worked nearly round the clock for the next week. Long days spent hauling piles from the basement and finishing up in the trailer, nights spent trying to sort through the congealed contents of the tub as well as making her own murder board based on what little she knew about her parents' deaths.

"Alright, that's it, Augusta, day off, let's go soak up some sun, before you get New York pale again!" Billy exclaimed one Sunday morning, as she cloistered in her room. She hastily shut the french doors to the closet where she had created the board as he burst in. "Please tell me you weren't doing something in here that would turn me gayer than I already am," he remarked, taking in her guilty look.

"Jesus, Billy!" she exclaimed, blushing.

"I did knock, anyway, put on a cute dress, we are going to brunch and sitting outside before the coroner confuses you with a corpse."

Gus grumbled in protest but was already heading to change. "I am not that pale, I got sun at Jazz Fest last weekend and the coroner isn't at the justice complex, you know that!" she called from the en suite bathroom.

"Oh just hush, you minx or I'll make it a full spa day!"

Gus spent a lovely day in the Quarter with her friend, even if she kept thinking about the tub under her bed and how 35 days had already diminished to 28.

Her feelings of urgency turned to anxiety when she encountered Colston and another cop waiting for her the next morning. "Good morning, Detective Broussard, hope you are ready for another week of great work. Need to wring every last bit out of you that I can in the time we have left. That is unless you are considering the offer. This is Commander Malleville, he'll be in charge of the new cold case squad. He also is helping hire the new lab staff."

Gus shook his hand, studying the man just as carefully as he was her. "Commander nice to meet you, sir, hope I am leaving more to work with."

"Hope you don't leave me at all, you have worked wonders so far. Combine you with that friend of yours and her very impressive resume and I might get a clearance rate worth mentioning yet!"

"Thank you sir, and while I assure you that Stella's resume cannot do her justice and that she would be the biggest asset to your new lab, I am looking forward to getting back to New York."

"That's a shame, I've heard such great things about you. Not surprising given how good a detective your father was."

Gus felt herself start, "you knew my father, sir?"

"I did, we were in homicide together, back before it dissolved out to the precincts. Hell of a guy, shame about what happened to him."

Colston shot Malleville a look, which Gus caught, but couldn't find the words to press the issue further. "Anyway, we should get going, just wanted to introduce you two and to let you know that your friend is top pick with brass and the new mayor, they'll probably want to fly her in soon for a final interview."

Gus just nodded as they left, wondering how well Malleville knew her father and more importantly, what he knew about his death.

She worked straight through the next couple of days barely stopping to inhale food that Chanda brought her, blowing past Billy's waiting dinner when she got home until he all but dragged her back downstairs to eat.

"No, none of this hiding in your room and wasting away. You were like a drowned cat when you got here and I finally fattened you back up, I will not send you back looking like a skeleton. I don't care how skinny those damn city girls are, you are a belle and belles have curves and meat on their bones. Don't you roll your eyes at me like a petulant teenager, Augusta Broussard, your little friend Adam told me how much better you looked, how you looked like your old self and how he was planning on telling that handsome detective of yours just that, so don't even try say that hunk of man waiting on you wants a stick of a girl."

Gus just kept eating, knowing better than to open her mouth. She was thinking she had a lot she wanted done in a short amount of time and now it looked like they were going to offer Stella the job and what if everyone blamed her for Stella leaving if she took it? Of course they would blame her. It would be all her fault that the team would be broken apart. Mac was going to kill her, hadn't he already scolded her for mentioning anything about the need for good lab people down here, and now to have set in motion the potential removal of his second in command?! What did she have to open her big mouth? Just like why did she have to find that stupid box in the basement? She angrily chewed her food, ignoring Billy staring at her, clearing her plate and placing it in the dishwasher. "Am I allowed to leave the table, sir?" she teased her friend.

"Well, since you ate all your vegetables. Have a lovely night doing whatever it is I don't want to know about up there under the eaves. However, if it involves that hunk of a cop, you tell him I said hello." Gus threw her napkin at him before heading back to her room.

* * *

"Are you serious about this?" Flack asked, working his jaw, holding the slip of paper summoning him to staff psych in his hand. All he wanted to do after the past two days was go home, drink a beer, watch the game and talk to Gus. The Harris case weighed heavily on him, he was just glad the kid's older brother had finally woken up.

"You fired your weapon and saw a suspect get hit and killed by a bus, so yes, you need cleared," McNair replied as the tall detective hovered in his doorway.

"Fine," he barked, taking a seat and trying to look relaxed. "Yes, I fired my weapon, after identifying myself, because he was openly firing at me, after he fired at two other cops! He chucked his gun and ran out into traffic like a frigging moron where he got hit by an MTA bus. Not the best day ever, but not the worse either. Definitely better than Troy Castro's day, the idiot."

"What about the boy, Sam?" McNair asked, flipping through the DB5s.

"What about the boy?" Flack barked back, wishing he had Gus there to coach him through this. Of course it was because of her that he had called McNair voluntarily a couple of weeks ago, knowing he needed help working through all the anger and hurt he had carried around for the past year or so. "A couple of kids whose dad died a few months ago want to help their mother, so they get a hare-brained scheme to rob a bank and one of the brothers gets shot for it and the other one got scared half to death.

"Their father died of cancer, didn't he? Like your grandfather did, same thing that forced your father into retirement."

"Jesus Christ, McNair, what the hell do they put in our personnel files? What does this have to do with me getting duty clearance?"

McNair leaned forward, tapping his forefingers together. Flack fervently hoped Gus had never done that, an irritating and stereotypical stance if there ever was one. "Fine you have duty clearance, now can we talk?"

Flack narrowed his eyes at the psychologist and sighed, "what do you want to know?"

"Just how you deal with death, illness, loss; as it relates to you personally. I have a pretty good idea from your jacket how you deal with it professionally, but I am a little in the dark about how it affects you and your personal relationships."

"I do okay, about as good as anyone else I know," Flack replied with a nonchalant shrug. This was definitely high up on his stupid ideas list. He had spent his last session with the man talking about his parents bitter divorce when he was ten and was about ready to strangle the man if he said the word abandonment issues one more time. Not to mention the idiot suggested he try to talk to his mother about her role in the ordeal. Like that was ever going to happen.

McNair gave him a wry smile, "given the people you surround yourself with, Detective Flack, I'm not sure that is a positive thing."

Flack just leaned back, kicking his legs out and raising his eyebrows. "I deal with things as they come, best as I can. I pretty sure that is all anyone can do, Doc. And no I did not talk to my mother like you suggested and it isn't going to happen. Just like I am not going to go have a heart to heart with my Pops about his in-remission cancer or how I think his wife cheated on him with his partner. Just like I ain't gonna talk to my grandmother about her husband dying and how she never fully recovered from that. I came here because I need help because a fellow officer all but bled out in my arms and I shot her murderer in the line of duty and even though one of the other headshrinkers cleared me from that, I still see both of their faces at night. I came to you because the woman I love seems to keep skipping town and I don't really blame her for pulling a runner this time because I spent a good six months using her and acting like a grade-A asshole. I came to you because I want to know I am not going to mess things up when she gets back here."

McNair was pretty sure Detective Flack was talking about a certain psychologist turned detective, he had heard plenty of rumors about the two of them over the years. He also had heard things about the fellow officer Flack had mentioned and wondered how that fit in to Flack's future plans. McNair didn't dwell on it too much, he knew it was impossible to be a couple's therapist when only one of them was in the room. McNair noticed the emergency light blinking over his door. "My suggestion to the first part of your problem is time and patience. To the second, all I will say is sometimes you need to go back before you can go forward."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll figure it out, Detective Flack, now I am sure we are both needed elsewhere," McNair replied, hastily scrawling his signature on Flack's duty clearance form and ushering the taller man out.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Issues (Flack)**

Gus was scribbling out notes on a legal pad when her phone rang, mere minutes after escaping to her room after Billy's forced dinner. Only because it was Flack's ring tone did she answer, she would have let God go to voice mail while she tried to piece together information about Malleville and her father.

"Hey, blue eyes, it's been a couple of days," she said in greeting.

"Yeah, it has." His tone told Gus it had been a hell of a couple days.

She sat fully up, putting her pad down, swinging her legs over the end of the bed. "Want to talk about it?"

"I already did. Had to get duty clearance," Flack sighed.

Gus made a face, knowing how much Flack hated talking to cop docs, even if he had volunteered to talk to McNair. She hadn't brought that up though, there were some boundaries she wanted rigid. If Flack wanted to share he would.

"Weapon discharge?" was all she asked.

"Yeah and watching a suspect get creamed by an express bus. Plus a kid got shot and I had to spend the past couple of days with his little brother who was trying to cover for the fact that they robbed a bank because their dad died of cancer a few months ago and Stella and Hawkes and I kind of got into it and then McNair kept asking me to have these big talks with everyone from my past it seems and then he rushed me out with his stupid shrink talk and I didn't have you there to translate for me and it just, sucked." Flack let out a large whoosh of air he didn't know he was holding. "How about you, how are you doing?" he asked, wanting to take the spotlight off him.

"Whoa, Don, that was a lot of information just now. You weren't kidding about trying to work through things, were you?"

"I know," Flack paused, pacing through his apartment. "Of course I'm not kidding about trying to work through things, aren't you still trying to work through things? I thought that was why you left this time."

"Yes, I am trying to work through things, I swear, you don't know how hard I have worked! I just feel stuck. Like I am not making enough forward progress and I can't figure out what is holding me back; what is stopping me from forgiving myself for everything so you can maybe one day start to think about forgiving me." The words rushed out of her similar to how Flack's had a couple of minutes before. Gus flopped back on her bed, frustration clear in her voice.

Flack paced back and forth, the past couple of days pulling down on him, his frustrations and anxieties leaving him raw. He found himself gripping the phone tighter and tighter. "You keep saying that you can't expect me to forgive you until you forgive yourself, but I am starting to feel like that is just an excuse, Gus, that you can't forgive yourself until I forgive you. But you are the one that keeps punishing yourself, you won't take my acceptance or forgiveness. You keep throwing it back to me, just like you did my proposal!" Flack shocked himself with those last words, where the hell had they come from? He stood stock still in his living room, wondering if this was what McNair meant about going back to move forward.

Gus felt her eyes go wide, her heart sink, once again their conversation had gone careening off-course. "I haven't thrown anything back at you, Don, I have tried to save you, protect you, always!"

"Me or yourself, sunshine?" Flack's voice wasn't as bitter as his words.

"There is no protecting or saving me, clearly you must know that by now!" Gus snapped, rising from her bed, beginning to pace.

Flack ran his hand over his face, stopping his pacing and sat heavily down on his couch. "No, I don't, I'm not buying it. Look, I thought this whole damn thing was about us figuring out what we wanted, what we needed, putting the past in the past, so why the hell do we have to bring everything back up?"

He was hoping she would give him some insight into what McNair had meant, some shrink talk that would make everything fall into place. But when she replied, he remembered that she had now been a cop for as long as she had been a psychologist and besides all that, she was still Gus.

"Because maybe some things neither of us can ever let go of, things that are always going to stand in the way of you and I being together and we just need to face the facts." Gus chewed on her thumb nail, deep into the quick, not even noticing the pain.

"What are you trying to say, Gus?" Flack asked, trying to interpret her tone, hating that he couldn't see her face, read her body language, she sounded calm enough, but her words sounded so heavy.

Gus felt her breath catch in her throat, "I don't know. That maybe there are still things here I need to face, that maybe I won't ever be able to be whole, not with...not enough, not for you."

She bit her lip, realizing how close she had come to admitting she had found her parent's murder box and was thinking about staying longer because she wanted to put them to rest most of all.

She took another deep breath before continuing. "I thought I was banishing all my demons, but maybe that isn't possible for me. The city, it gets in your blood, I don't expect you to understand that, Flack."

"So help me to!" Flack implored.

Gus gave a short bark of bitter laughter, "if only it was that easy."

"You are the one making things difficult now, not me," Flack sighed.

Gus clenched her fists at her sides, "I am not trying to be difficult, I am trying to be realistic. Yes, I made a gigantic mistake running away from you three years ago, but you didn't exactly fight for me, now did you, Don? Of course, I didn't fight for you either, I sat stubbornly and petulantly as you fell for your partner, again, just a different one this time; leaving me to be the butt of every joke that came out of the pit. Then I let myself be your fuck buddy, believing that somewhere under your grief and guilt there was still love for me, but I could have been any faceless skirt from the bars."

"That isn't true, Gus, that isn't fair!" Flack protested.

She stared out the window, not really seeing. "Maybe, maybe not. The worst part is, I still remember standing in that alley, with you telling me how much you loved me and how you weren't taking no for an answer and believing you, and loving you just as much as you said you love me! Still loving you just as much, no, loving you more if that's even possible. But it sure as hell looks to me like you took no for an answer."

"We've been through this, how many times? You left, not me," Flack replied, standing once again, emotions running through him like a current.

"You let me go. You didn't come after me. You let me come back and didn't say anything. You moved on. Not me."

Flack growled, "what about Doyle?"

"What about Doyle?" Gus yelled.

"Do you think I am stupid, Gus? You were wearing his vest, you spent the night with him, I can put two and two together. You slept with someone you were partnered with too, it wasn't just me!"

"Yes, slept with, one night, one drunken night because I was lonely and angry and tired of watching you fall more and more in love with Jess while my heart was breaking. It wasn't love or a relationship, it was drunken sex, which I think we are both aware can be pretty meaningless." Her words were as sharp as a knife.

Flack's voice cracked as he spoke. "Not one of those times was it meaningless. Angry, drunk, confused, lost, yes; but never meaningless, it can't ever be meaningless with you, even if I wanted it to."

"Do you?" Gus asked, dreading the answer, she had just given him the ultimate out, and she wouldn't blame him for taking it.

"No, not for a second. That city of yours might get in your blood, but you have gotten in mine, Gus. You running, me not coming after you, Jess, Cade, Doyle, the whole mess, none of it changes how I feel about you. I love you, I have for a long time, even though I swore I would never give myself fully to someone. I want to help you, protect you, I have since the first time I laid eyes on you; but I can only do that if you let me in as much as I have let you in!" Flack could feel his pulse thudding throughout his body.

"What if I can't?" Gus asked meekly.

"You can, you have!" he implored.

"What if these damn ghosts keep following me?" she cried out.

"Stop letting them and damn well stop running towards them. Come back home, come back to me."

Gus felt her stomach twist, "I want to, I really do."

"So get on the damn plane the second your exchange is over," Flack demanded.

"And then what?" Gus questioned, sounding bewildered.

Flack's reply was in a heated growl, "then I will pick you up at the airport and kiss you like I've wanted to do for months and we will figure everything else out, one thing at a time, together, we'll move forward."

Gus thought about arguing, asking him what if they couldn't figure everything or anything out, but the fight had left her. She was overwhelmed with emotions, unable to sort out what she wanted to say or do. She hadn't been expecting a fight, hadn't been ready for the battle that had ensued, not to mention she could hear Billy hovering in the hallway. "Fine."

"Do you really mean that, Broussard, or are you trying to just get me to shut up?" His smirk was clear in his voice.

This brought the barest traces of a smile to her face, "you know me too well, Flack. I guess what I mean is, we aren't going to figure anything out tonight or over the phone." She sighed, "I do love you, even though I also said I would never let anyone fully in. You are in my blood too, more than New Orleans. I want to figure everything out, with you, in New York." She added, silently, 'I think'.

Flack groaned as the knock sounded on his door, Danny, he forgot Danny was coming over to watch the game. "Look, sunshine, I gotta go, but please know there is nothing more I want than you back in New York. I miss you. I need you."

He was gone before Gus could formulate her response, leaving her with a clouded mind and heart as she tried to put on a brave face for Billy.

* * *

**Chapter 23: See You Soon (Mac)**

The game had just finished, even though it had gone into extra innings and Danny was talking about how Lindsay would be ticked that it had run late, or more likely ticked that she hadn't been able to sit back and drink beer and watch the game with them. Both of their phones started buzzing, and they looked at each other groaning. The last thing either of them wanted was another sleepless night...

Danny processed the scene, even though a security guard had caught the bloodied man fleeing from the opera house as Flack finished up at the hospital, happy Mac had only suffered a broken wrist and couple of ribs. He called Gus for the second time that night, wincing at the late hour.

"'lo," came Gus' croaking answer, she had decided to try to fall asleep after placating a fretting Billy and had done so with the help of whatever little white pill he had given her.

"Sorry to wake you, sunshine," Flack said, his mind filled with images of her curled in bed, warm with sleep, rubbing her eyes and squinting to see the clock.

"Hey, did you mean to call me or are you butt-dialing again?" she said with a yawn, wondering what more he could want at this late hour, she thought they had both agreed not much more could be solved until she got back to New York.

"I meant to call, and everything is fine, don't worry, but Mac had a nasty spill chasing a suspect and he broke his wrist and a couple of ribs. He is going to have to learn to take it easy for a week or so, which will be a barrel of monkeys to witness but he will be as good as new. Right now he is hopped up on painkillers and passed out, but I thought you should know." Flack worked hard to word everything so she wouldn't freak out, he hated having to make calls like this to her, it only supported her ridiculous curse theory. He could almost break Mac's other wrist for doing so.

Gus stretched with another yawn, wondering what the hell Billy had given her. "He really is fine, you aren't leaving anything out?"

Flack grinned, "nope, not one thing, just knew you would be mad if you didn't know right away."

"Madder than a hornet," she agreed, her voice sleepy.

Despite their heated discussion earlier, Flack felt more resolved about their relationship than he had in a while, his anxiety dissolving enough to allow his mind to fill with how he would rather be waking her up in the middle of the night. "I should let you get back to sleep, should try to get some myself," he croaked out silently adding, 'after a cold shower'.

"M'kay, sweet dreams, Flack, love you," she sighed, hanging up her phone and falling immediately back to sleep.

* * *

Gus vaguely recalled having a conversation with Flack late the night before, but only as she was scrolling through her phone looking for another number the next day while taking a beak from the basement. "Crap, Uncle Mac!" she yelped, Chanda looking at her with concern. She called him, relieved to hear that he was fine, his painkillers doing their job, including making him loopy. Gus was further reassured by Stella who was already playing nursemaid as much as he would allow. "Really, he is going to be fine, he'll just hurt for a few days and is forced to take a couple of days off," Stella said. Gus could hear her walking away, "I got a call," she continued, her voice drastically lowered.

"From Malleville?"

"Is that the new mayor's name, I thought it was something different, guess I need to brush up."

"The new mayor called you?" Gus squeaked out, waving Chanda and her excited clapping away.

Stella leaned back to make sure Mac was still lying on the couch blissfully unaware. "Yes, they want me to come down, but they said if they liked me and I liked them, the job was all but mine."

"So when are you coming?" Gus asked, torn between excitement and dread.

"I don't know, I was going to come next week, but now with Mac out, I need to stick around here. I can't talk about it now, but I just had to let somebody know!" Stella sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. Gus couldn't help but be happy for her friend, but worried about the potential fall out.

Chanda was on Gus the second she hung up the phone. "Your friend, the crime lab guru, is she coming, did she get the job? Are you going to stay then?"

"Chanda, chill. She doesn't know yet, she probably has the job if she wants it, but she had some things to take care of in New York. I am not staying here, not long-term, I need to get back to New York, I want to get back there. I just have to make sure I have everything done here that I wanted to get done. And maybe I should stay a little bit extra to help get Stella settled."

"Mnn huh, a little bit longer, that is what they all say and then twenty years later they still here."

"Not me, Chanda, I've got things waiting for me back in the city."

"By things, you mean tall, dark, and blue-eyed, don't you? Now that you finally showed me his picture, I can't believe you ever came back down here, girl, you crazy."

"And that is exactly why I am going back!" Gus said, flouncing away.

Gus kept at things, trying to not wonder what was happening back in New York as she worked on trying to get things to a good stopping point in New Orleans in the less than three weeks she left. She had made little headway on her parents case, other than painfully extracting a few pieces of blurred paper. She wasn't a lab rat, she didn't have the ability to conjure proof from a ball of muck. She also was too chicken to ask Commander Malleville about her father or his death, especially since she didn't want to jeopardize Stella's job prospects or possible future working relationships. Gus jumped when an email from her uncle arrived, wondering if he knew what Stella was pondering.

**Gus,**

**Typing this with my left hand and not being a south paw like you, it is a little frustrating. As is being in my apartment as I have been for the past week. There are a lot of strange things that go on during the day in New York apartments. You seen a plethora of interesting things. Like your ex-girlfriend coming to town and staying with a conspiracy theorist ex-professor with a penchant for poison and almost getting killed by said guy at a benefit she came to town to attend. We stopped him before he poisoned a couple of hundred people. Don and Danny had a little dust-up on the roof with him, but they are both fine. Stop worrying. So yes, I saw Peyton again and I was reminded about many things: how things between her and I were always so unpredictable, how intelligent and compassionate she is, how things ended so poorly between us because she didn't give me a chance, how much I have missed her. She, of course, picked up on Dr. Hunter, Aubrey, the woman I was telling you about and Peyton admitted to being a bit jealous. I am not sure what to make of all it, especially since she is going back to London in a few days. My point of telling you this goes back to the last time Peyton and I were in New York together, when you ended things poorly with Don and how I should have stepped in then, but couldn't because I was off on my English holiday, blissfully unaware of how things were about to turn out poorly for me. I wonder how differently things might be today if I had been there to talk some sense into you or Don back then. I know we can't change the past, but I like to think I have some influence over your future, even if I am just your broken old uncle. I hope you have healed while down there, I know Don has, not completely and he may never do so, I know he certainly won't do so as long as you two are separated. Also, I know you and Peyton did get along as well as I would have liked before, I just have to ask that if I end up giving her another chance that you do as well. See you soon, Mac**

A smile spread across her face as Gus promptly replied.

**Mac,**

**Ha, welcome to my world! You try finding left-handed scissors yet? I jest. I am glad you are no worse for the wear, though I am acutely aware of how much broken ribs hurt (twice now!) and how long they take to heal. Hope you have learned to eat something with your pain meds. I am trying to imagine you just sitting anywhere during the day, unless it is in your office pondering something until you have a House, MD moment. Of course you witnessed a crime, only you, Uncle Mac! Or possibly me, sometimes I forget we aren't blood related. Peyton, huh? Yeah, I don't know how I feel about that one, but more because I know how hurt you were when she broke up with you by letter. Yes, I know I sent my badge and gun back by express mail, but I told Don in person at least. Even if it was of the most ill-conceived things I have ever done, including the time I hot-wired that nun's car. I can still hear you and Claire yelling about that one...I was just practicing, I swear! Back to Peyton, I just want you happy, as much as you say you want me happy, Mac, whether it is with Peyton or Aubrey or some other woman. She better be pretty amazing to be good enough for you. No, you can't change the past, but that doesn't stop me from wishing you had knocked our heads together so I wouldn't be in the predicament I am now. Can't wait to see you, promise I won't squeeze you too hard when I do. Love ya, Gussie**


	8. Supposed to be

**Chapter 24: Supposed To Be (Multiple)**

Gus looked down at her phone with confusion, how was she calling herself from her desk in New York? "Broussard?" she answered, sounding unsure of herself.

"Dawlin' your partner just ain't right, I know he don't have no ax in his attic," the voice drawled in that strange mix of Cajun and Bronx found only one place on the planet.

"Nicky Piroleaux?" Gus asked, knowing it had to be him even though most of their correspondence had been by email.

"He went all Spiderman when we were chasing down Casey last night. Practically jumped off a building to link the guy up, not that I blame him that Casey is crazier than an outhouse rat!"

"Wait, Shane Casey, what and why are you calling me?" Gus asked, her heart lurching.

"You see, the thing is, I kind of wasn't where I was supposed to be last night which is how I saw Casey in the first place."

"Where exactly were you?" Gus said, rubbing her temples, it was too early in the day for this.

"Some joint called the Old Cash Bar."

"Piroleaux, cops don't drink on the clock there like they do here, what kind of mess are you leaving for me?" Gus dropped her head from her hands to her desk.

"I wasn't drinking, I've kind of being seeing the bartender."

"Seeing the bartender, you know you have to come back here in a couple of weeks, right?" Gus snipped, though her voice was muffled by the top of her desk. Chanda had perked up as soon as she said the New Orleans detective's name and was now hovering, so Gus wrote "imbecile" on a sticky note, underlined it and held it up so Chanda could see.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it is going to be pretty hard to give up that swank place of yours, though I may not have been as good as keeping it clean as you are."

"Let me guess, your mama still cleans your place and does your laundry," Gus snarled. "Back to Casey, where were you supposed to be?"

"Just on duty, and I called your boy Flack as soon as I saw him."

"I am glad to hear that but if they arrested him, what is the big deal about where you were last night?" Gus looked at her empty coffee mug with disdain, though Chanda was astute enough to grab it and walk toward the pot.

"Because Casey killed the guard holding him at the DA's and escaped again and Flack and your crazy Uncle both just looked like they wanted to nail my ass to the wall."

Gus choked on the coffee Chanda had just given her, "escaped again? Jesus Christ, Piroleaux, a serial killer is on the loose again after being arrested, again, by a member of my team, AGAIN, and you didn't think to lead with that?!"

"I just was worried what they might be thinking about me-"

"Shut your greenhorn mouth, Nicky Piroleaux and put my partner on the damn phone now!" she roared. She heard Piroleaux trying to get Flack's attention, the sounds of a precinct in chaos clear in the background.

"This is the schmuck they send up here to stand in for you, sunshine?" Flack said as soon as he realized who was on the other end of the receiver being held out to him.

"Hey, I didn't pick him. So I am guessing things are crazy, huh?" Gus said, realizing she hadn't talked to him since their last intense conversation and the subsequent one she barely remembered. She also felt flooded with how much she missed his voice, how much she missed him.

Flack gave her a small laugh, "you could say that, every person in the city who sees a white male with medium length brown hair is calling in to the tip line. I am about to go and try to run down Casey's old cellmate. Danny and Lindsay sure know when to head out-of-town to the beach."

Gus recalled the very excited letter she received from Lindsay after their time off was approved. "Ah yes, the first annual Messer family vacation. Mac still let them leave even with all this going on?"

A smile spread across as his face hearing her voice amid the noise of the precinct, "yeah, think your uncle is getting soft in his increasing age. Wish I had been smart enough to come and see you this week."

Gus let out a small snort, "don't let him hear you say that and I keep telling you, anytime, blue eyes, plenty of non-stops."

"Aren't you back in like two weeks?" Flack protested, even though he didn't blame her, the only person to go visit her was freaking Adam.

"What you stop counting? Supposed to be 16 days," Gus said, chewing on her lip.

"I know, smart ass, still counting and what do you mean supposed to be?" Flack said, his stomach clenching.

"Just, I might need to take a couple of extra weeks, I am working on some things," Gus felt suddenly sheepish.

"Work faster, because I am ready to ship this kid back to you in a box. Without holes." Flack glared at Piroleaux who had the audacity to look confused.

"Oh, he needs to come back, that snot nosed trouble maker, this is personal anyway," Gus rushed out.

Flack cleared his throat, "don't you have some, uh, personal things, to work on here?"

She was determined for this to not turn into a fight. "Before your time, stuff, Don. Nothing is decided yet, anyway, just go catch freaking Shane Casey so we can all sleep better at night."

"I'll sleep better at night when you are back in New York, sunshine, but I see your point. I'll call you later, take care of yourself." He was gone in a flash, sucked back into the hubbub of the precinct.

Gus tried to focus on her work, but it was difficult knowing a psychopath was free, again, and this time angrier and crazier. She also couldn't help but worry about Danny, knowing that Casey was fixated on him. Perhaps it was best they had left town.

Gus didn't even hear Chanda calling her name until the other woman tapped her on the shoulder. Gus jumped, scattering her papers. "Sugar, how have you not shot yourself?" Chanda chided, "and there is some brass here to see you." Gus looked up to see Commander Malleville hovering in the doorway. She looked at him quizzically, hastily sorting her papers before going to see what he wanted.

"Sir?" she asked, walking over to him.

"Let's take a walk, Broussard," he said, holding the door to the trailer open. Gus raised an eyebrow at him, the justice complex wasn't in a strolling area. "We'll be fine, even if less armed than the folks around here." Something about his smile made Gus uncomfortable, but she wanted to help Stella keep her options open.

Gus remained silent, having to dredge up all her tricks from being a therapist to not interrogate Malleville as to why they were romping around the least picturesque part of Mid-City. Malleville kept giving her sidelong glances as though he was waiting on the younger woman to ask him what they were doing, but she remained silently stubborn. Finally Malleville cleared his throat, "ain't much of a talker, are you?"

Gus stopped short, crossing her arms over her chest, "I am when I know what I am supposed to be talking about, sir. Thought maybe you just enjoyed strolling in 90 degree humidity."

Malleville have another one of his serpentine smiles, "suppose I can give you that one, detective. I wanted to apologize for the other day, bringing up your father. Colston reminded me how young you were when...it happened." There was something very hollow in his tone, and Gus almost missed it, her mind wandering back to that fateful day.

"Almost 13, that's considered adult in some cultures," Gus retorted, knowing she had become an adult the second she stepped into the kitchen and slipped on her mother's blood.

"Still, I apologize. I meant what I said though, he was a good detective, too good for the NOPD." Gus just nodded, unsure how to respond, unsure if this was an opening she should take. Malleville continued, "I have a theory on why people become cops, Broussard."

"Because they want to protect and serve? Or because they want a license to kill?" Gus grumbled, sweat dripping down her back in the bright sun.

"Yes, that as well. Actually, my theory relates more to why legacy children become cops, and what path they chose to take when they do. Like cold cases."

Gus narrowed her eyes at him, knowing he was talking about her. "I didn't really choose cold cases, sir, I was assigned them while I was working on my qualifications and then again under less than fortunate circumstances and I just happen to be good at them. Maybe they chose me, I don't know, but I am a homicide detective, preferable of newly dead people."

Malleville put his palms up, "if you say so, Broussard. I was just thinking, you have spent six months in a trailer and a basement doing more than anyone else had done in nearly five years and I think that must mean something."

"That I actually have work ethic?" Gus shot back.

"Yes, but also that you might be searching for answers."

Gus felt her eyes go wide, he knew, he knew she had found and stolen evidence. Now she was going to get fired and possible arrested and she couldn't go to prison in Louisiana, then she never would see Don again. Keep calm, she chided herself, wait to see what he is getting at, you can always deny, everyone else plays the Katrina card.

"I'll just come out with it, I have a proposition about you. You stay on for another six months and I will dedicate all the time and resources you need to closing your parents' case."

Gus was taken aback, nearly speechless, only able to come out with, "how much do you know about their case, is it even solvable?"

"Is that a yes?" Malleville pressed, his face unreadable, patently not answering her question.

Gus had the sinking feeling that she was being blackmailed, that Malleville knew more than he was letting on, but his lust for power was great enough to do anything to get his clearance rate up. She also didn't like the gleam in his eye, there was something about this man that put her on edge. Realizing she had to answer, she finally came up with, "it is an I'll think about it, sir. Now if you don't mind, I am melting and have work to get back to." Gus turned on her hell, leaving Malleville on the sidewalk.

* * *

**Chapter 25: Family Getaway (Danny-Multi)**

"Six more frigging months, that man is crazy, I don't want to be here six more days, I want to be back in New York, working on things with Flack, trying to forget that I ever found that damn mess in the basement in the first place!" Gus was growling at herself back in the trailer, Chanda knew by now enough to give her a wide berth, but she could only assume Gus' walk with the brass hadn't gone well.

Gus was still grumbling when her phone started ringing, she was barking, "Broussard," into it when her computer chimed with an urgent video chat request from Adam. Setting the phone down, she accepted it, watching as Adam's face appeared on the screen, a brick wall behind him. "A serial killer is on the loose and you want to video chat, Adam, seriously?" she said, before recalling she had also just answered her cell phone. "Crap!" she swore, picking the phone back up, seeing that it was Flack. "Don, both of you, what is going on?" Adam shifted slightly and Gus finally realized why the brick behind him looked familiar, "Adam, why are you in Danny and Lindsay's apartment?"

"Gus, take a breath," Flack ordered, "we found Casey's cellmate, dead, dressed in Danny's academy t-shirt."

"I knew that bastard fixated on Danny!" Gus replied.

"Wait, you knew he was going to go after Danny?" Adam asked while rifling through the Messer's apartment, hoping they wouldn't be mad.

"I said fixated, what do you mean go after, they aren't even in town!" Gus protested, trying to keep up with the phone and the video until Adam saved her by putting them all on video conference. While this made it easier to keep up, seeing Don's face on her screen was almost too much for her. She closed her eyes briefly until Flack's voice brought her back.

"Think careful, sunshine, did Lindsay say anything to you about where they were going?"

"All we know for sure is they are headed toward Long Island," Adam said, exasperated.

Gus started rifling through her papers, both men staring at her as she did so, "just a second," she disappeared for a moment, scrounging in the bottom of her bag, items appearing on their screens as she laid them on the desk.

"Was that her gun?" Flack started in worried.

"A-ha!" she exclaimed, coming back up with a stack full of letters, sorting through them. Adam and Flack tried to wait patiently as Flack explained what little progress they had made.

Flack continued, "nothing on their credit cards, Danny is like me that way, he would rather pay cash than pay bills."

"This is why you are never allowed to tease me again about my credit card bills, blue eyes," Gus shot back before realizing that Adam was looking uncomfortable, "er, yeah, so here we go..." she pulled out the latest letter from Lindsay.

"_So excited...renting a convertible...Danny probably won't let me drive it...Lucy and cute sundresses...time off...blue bikini, _er just forget about that bit_, looking forward to a scenic drive along the coast and staying in the most amazing inn in the Hamptons._ That is it, that is all she says, except wondering why we never did a girl's weekend in the Hamptons. I seem to remember her talking about wanting to go to the end of the earth in Montauk and for a landlocked farm girl, she has this thing about lighthouses."

"Damn it!" Flack swore, cursing further when Adam mentioned Danny had left his cell phone behind.

"Yeah, but Lindsay will have hers, she'll want to text photos of Lucy out right away," Gus countered.

"Except that scenic drive makes coverage really spotty," Adam pointed out. They all grumbled in frustration, "I have more bad news, we found Casey's prints on their building's laundry machines and his cell mate's prints on the phone junction."

"Great, so judging by that Shane Casey knows a hell of a lot more about where Danny and Lindsay are than we do!" Flack's frustration was clear in his tone and on his face. Adam and Gus easily shared the feeling.

"I'm going to get back to searching, though Lindsay is going to freak when she sees what we did to the place," Adam gulped.

"Not if it keeps them safe, sugar, take care!" Gus said, clicking off, surprised when Flack didn't as well. "Sorry I wasn't much more help, Don," Gus said quietly. She looked at him leaning over his computer, studying his face, trying to memorize every line and pore, wishing she could reach through it and press her palm against her cheek.

"It's fine, just following a lead," he was looking back at her just as intently. "I miss you," he said softly, not wanting everyone in the pit to hear him, glad for the distractions taking place around him.

"You too. Just stay safe and keep me updated," she said, knowing he had to get back to work.

"I will, I promise," he paused, "you know you gotta start actually wearing your gun when you get back up here, right?"

"Yes, Don," she replied with a smile that nearly broke his composure.

"16 days, sunshine," Flack said, before clicking off.

* * *

Gus was on pins and needles the rest of the day, unable to concentrate on working, worrying about the Messers, thinking about Malleville's ridiculous offer, her heartbeat racing as she thought about seeing Flack's face today...Billy was about ready to slip a Valium into her after dinner cocktail.

"Good Lord, woman, you are working my nerves, if you keep this up, I am dragging you down to the club and make you work this energy off."

"Billy, there is a serial killer after two of my friends, some snake is trying to extort me to stay so I can solve my parents' murder, I may steal my Uncle's second in command down here and just seeing Don's face today about made my clothes combust, so yes, I am a little pent-up. Please just make me another drink."

"Fine, but if you need to work off this nervous energy, you can polish the silver and that is not a euphemism, really, I am trying to cut back Buela's workload," Billy said, making his way to the bar.

It was closer to the next morning than that night before Gus heard from Flack again, she bolted upright in bed, not able to fully sleep. "What is it, are they alright?" she asked as she answered her buzzing phone.

"Shaken up, but they will be fine. You weren't far off with Montauk and you were right on the money about the lighthouse. Casey tracked them to one and cornered Danny," Flack explained.

And?" Gus demanded when it didn't continue.

"We got there in time."

"So Casey is in custody?" Gus inquired, wondering why Flack was being so quiet, other than probably coming down off the adrenaline rush.

"No, Danny and him scuffled, he took a header off the lighthouse. Casey is dead, deservedly so, crazy bastard."

"You're sure?" Gus pressed, still not feeling at ease.

"Gus, he fell from a 110 foot lighthouse landing on jagged rocks and was swept out to a raging sea. He is dead, this isn't a Stephen King novel," Flack teased.

"Everyone is fine, you promise?"

Her tone made Flack's heart catch in his throat. "I promise, sunshine, I can't lie to you, you know that. What's going on?" he asked, though he was fighting his exhaustion.

Gus wrinkled her nose, trying to sort feelings into words. "It's been a long day, I know, longer for y'all. Long six months, longer. I just, want everyone that I love safe and happy and at peace." Peace, she wanted peace so much, which is why Malleville offer nagged at the back of her mind. If she could just put her parents' to rest, maybe she would finally have a shot at her own peace.

"Everyone will have all that, I swear. Danny and Lindsay just need a few days to relax, everyone else will be back at the grind tomorrow. So stop your worrying and get some sleep." She just heaved a sigh in response. "It was nice seeing your face today," he said, wanting to end the conversation on a smoother note, "I was starting to think I forgot what you looked like. Luckily, you're still gorgeous."

This brought a smile to her lips, "thanks, you aren't half-bad yourself," she paused, "it was nice, but kind of hard too, seeing you but not being able to touch you," she admitted, her words coming out in a rush.

The smile Flack smiled was bittersweet, he knew exactly what she meant. "Yeah, well, how about we both get some sleep so I can put another X on the calendar and we'll be one day closer to seeing each other in person?" He reigned in mentioning anything about touching each other, wanting a hope and prayer of actually getting to sleep.

Gus swallowed, her heart taking command of her voice, "I love you, more than anything, you have to know that, Don."

Her declaration caught him off guard, should he be worrying? "I know, Gus, if I haven't figured out anything else in the past six months, I at least know we love each other. Get some sleep now, though, Alright, its stupid late or stupid early."

"Alright,," Gus said, before hanging up and falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**BB,**

**You gotta learn to chill. The whole team had our backs, we handled it, just like we always do. Hey, did you know you can reach a limit on text and voice mails even on our work phones? Yeah, well you can, so thanks for that. Stop freaking out about not warning me about Casey, you did warn me as much as anyone coulda, I know you got my and Linds' and Lucy's best interests at heart, always, even when you are miles away. I am really starting to wish we had come to see you for vacation instead. We coulda fed Casey to a gator or something. Maybe I should send Lindsay down there to see you before you come back, she deserves a vacation from me, don't you snicker at me, Broussard, you know what I mean. You were right when you said I had to stop treating her like glass and let her be my rock, I just want to be the same for her, ya know? If she does come to see you, promise me my wife won't end up on one of them internet videos though, alright? I am guessing you and Flack have had a few good talks, he got his snark back and started wearing jackets again. Good times. Let me know if he doesn't straighten up for you, I'll take him for a couple of rounds. And then he'll probably kick my ass since I am turning more and more into a science guy, but whatever, you can always count on me to stick up for you, not that you need it. Christ, I should stop before I paint myself into a corner and you end up kicking my ass. So, let me know if you are staying longer like Linds said you might be and if you wouldn't mind showing her around, otherwise I'll see ya when I see ya.**

**Gotta Go, Lindsay is giving me that look,**

**Danny**

"What are you doing?" Lindsay asked from the doorway. She had finally gotten Lucy down for a nap and was ready to curl in bed with her husband for one herself when she found him on his laptop. She knew they couldn't stay on Long Island after the Casey debacle the night before, but it was still their vacation, even if all they were doing was staying around their apartment.

Danny pushed his laptop aside, opening his arms to greet his wife, feeling better as she laid on his chest. "I was just emailing Broussard, she musta left a hundred messages between both of us. I think she feels guilty for not being here, not being able to profile that nut wad in the first place."

"She couldn't have known, but it is awfully sweet. Sometimes I think Gus cares too much."

"You're one to talk, Montana."

"Shut it, cowboy. Which reminds me, I'm glad we have each other, and I know we have been through some stuff, but I am so happy I married you, that we have this life. I take back everything I said about the apartment, I don't think we should ever leave it again."

"Sounds good to me, that is what delivery is for," he said, turning to kiss her.

* * *

Gus read the email, a giant sigh of relief exploding from her chest. "Good news, I take it?" Chanda asked from her own desk.

"As good as a psychopath falling to his death and your friends being safe is, I suppose."

"Sounds like good news to me," she paused, "you got quite the krewe up there don't you?"

Gus gave her a smile, "I guess I do."

"Then why were you muttering about staying longer?" Chanda pressed.

"Part of those hundred of missing pages of information. I had a few things to put to rest here, abusive ex-fiance, feeling guilty over a friend's death, being trapped next door during the flood, feeling like I abandoned this city, trying to get rid of a curse..." she trailed off.

"Uh huh, and how is that all going?" Chanda asked, thinking there was way more to this girl than met the eye.

"Pretty well, actually, told off the fiancé at the Comus ball, got forgiveness from the friend's mother, able to not have a panic attack next door, realized New York is home, so yeah."

"What about that curse, because you know a got some kin folk up river that I could take you out to see."

Gus tried to not smile, New Orleans was good about not making you feel crazy when you said things like you were cursed. "I'm working things out, Chanda, but thanks. The problem is, the last ghosts I have to lay to rest are my parents." Chanda's eyes grew wide. "Lord, Chanda, no, they are already dead, they were murdered right before I turned 13, unsolved."

"Is that why you like cold cases so much?"

"Apparently that is what Malleville thinks, he told me if I extended my stay, then he would give me what I needed to close their case."

"No!" she shouted.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Gus shot back.

"I mean, as much as I talk about this place getting to you, that it being the only real place left in this country, you have to let your parents rest in peace as they are and you need to go on living. In New York, with your family and that fine man, not floating around here like a ghost yourself. What if you can't solve their case?"

"How can I not even try, Chanda?"

Gus wrestled with this through the rest of that day and through the night, waking with a start, realizing she had two weeks left, unless she took Malleville up on his offer. Speaking of offers, she wondered what was happening with Stella? Gus wondered if the Casey mess might not have changed Stella's mind, reminding the woman how much she cared for her NYPD family, it certainly had clarified that fact for Gus.

* * *

**Chapter 26: What Do You Need? (Multi)**

Gus was in the middle of cooking breakfast for her and Billy when her phone started buzzing. She looked at the clock, it was awfully early, she was only up because she hadn't been able to sleep that well and wanted to make the use of every last minute she had in New Orleans, unsure of how many there would be.

"Gus, it's Mac."

His words were clipped, but Gus just thought it was Mac being Mac. "Hey, Mac, I should have known it would be you, everyone else that isn't on a call is still asleep. What's is going on in your neck of the woods?"

"Lindsay killed Shane Casey last night and she isn't doing very well." His tone remained stoney.

Gus was sure this was some sort of horrible prank, she couldn't have heard him correctly. She continued whisking the eggs in the bowl, flipping a page in the cookbook. "Very funny, Uncle Mac, if you want me to call more often, just say so. Flack already told me that Shane Casey took a header off a lighthouse. Yes, we are talking, yes, I want to get back together with him. Yes, I am aware we work together and professionalism and integrity and blah blah blah. I love him, I'll transfer if I have to."

Mac sighed, "Gussie, I'm not joking. Lindsay shot Shane Casey last night in their apartment, he broke in and was found holding Lucy in her room and was threatening to kill her. I need you to call her."

Gus almost dropped her phone in the egg bowl, catching it just in time to yelp, "what?"

"Just call her, please, she is refusing to talk. To anyone. We are almost ready to send her for a full eval at Elmhurst."

"She's probably in shock, Mac, she just shot a serial killer that she thought was dead in her home in the middle of the night because he was threatening her child!" Gus replied, though her stomach filled with dread, "I'll call her and let you know what happens."

Mac was correct, Lindsay refused to come to the phone. "I don't know what to do, Gus!" Danny exclaimed, raw emotion clear in his voice, "she won't get out of bed, she barely will look at me to nod and she refuses to hold Lucy."

"Where are you?" Gus asked, figuring their apartment was still a crime scene.

"My mother's," Danny replied, "I didn't know where else to go, everyone is busy."

"The first thing you need to do is get her out of your mother's on Staten Island, I would probably refuse to get out bed there too," Gus said, knowing how domineering the elder Mrs. Messer could be, "call anyone on the team, you know they will let you come stay. I am sure Mac is rushing to get the scene processed and cleared, don't bring her back to your place until the cleaning team is done and even then, she is probably going to want to redecorate Lucy's room, assuming she doesn't want to move."

"Jesus, we can barely keep up with the rent controlled place we got," Danny moaned.

"One thing at a time, Messer, first focus on getting your wife someplace she doesn't want to hide and make sure she eats something."

"Hold on, I think she actually wants to talk to you," Danny said, rustling in the background.

"Gus?" Lindsay's hollow voice came over the line. Gus knew without a doubt the other woman had shut down.

"Hey, sweetie, heard you had a rough night. What do you need?" Gus asked, her heart aching for her friend as she shot out a couple of emails, breakfast preparation forgotten as she rallied the troops.

Three hours later, Danny ushered Lindsay into Gus' co-op, freshly scrubbed top to bottom by the emergency maid service that Danny was certain Gus had paid top dollar for. He knew they could have called Mac or Stella or even Flack, but fitting three extra bodies in anybody's place in the city would have not helped the situation. They needed to be together, but alone. He vaguely wondered how the New Orleans' detective had dealt with his early eviction. All that mattered was they were able to leave the clutches of his mother not a moment too soon and he convinced Lindsay to eat at least a little oatmeal at a diner around the corner.

"Don't let her break anything, Danny," Lindsay implored, her forehead wrinkling as Lucy toddled around Gus' apartment. The last time she had been there, she had only been crawling. Lindsay couldn't believe what a difference six months made. Or six seconds for that matter, which was the length of time it had taken her to load her weapon and kill a man in her home. She shuddered, Danny pulling her in for a hug. "Don't worry about Lucy, Gus said there was nothing she had that couldn't be replaced."

"I can't believe she kicked me out of her place, how would she feel if I had someone down in New Orleans kicking her out of mine? I still got two weeks left here," Nicky Piroleaux grumbled across the desk from Don Flack.

"She's only been at your place to make sure it hasn't fallen down, Piroleaux, she is staying with a friend. And I don't know how you go about things in the swamp, but up here we take care of our own. So quit bitching and be glad I am letting you sleep on my sofa instead of the crash room," Flack snarled at the younger detective. Only for Gus would he put up with this, well, for her and the Messers. Family was family.

Within two days and countless phone calls, texts, and emails back to New York, plans were in place. The Messers were still on vacation and Gus wanted to make sure her friend didn't keep ruminating over the events the night of the Casey shooting.

Gus had spent the past couple of days ruminating over Malleville's offer and Chanda's scolding, but still hadn't come to any decisions. But then again, neither had Stella and Gus didn't want to stay longer if she didn't have someone on her side. At least the basement had finally been cleared out, mold abatement crews finally doing their jobs and the new lab and storage rooms being built out on a high floor at the medical complex. This afforded her the time to spend with her dear friends.

"You sure about this, Broussard, because I would hate to see your credit card bills this month!" Danny asked, again, even though his wife had just driven away with Stella.

"Yes, I am sure, y'all are my family. Now are you sure you have Lucy taken care of?"

"Yep, everyone is on board, including my mother, god help me! Flack, Sheldon and Adam are going to come over and help pack everything. Lindsay is driving Stella to the airport, or so she thinks. I don't know how I feel about springing this on her after all that went down."

"This way she can't back out of it, she won't take a break for herself, you know that. She'll have a good time, free of serial killers and psychopaths and be back on Monday, hopefully ready to start healing and moving on."

"Yeah, thanks for calling off the cop docs, I know she'll have to talk to them soon enough, but..."

"It's fine, Danny, I'll take care of your woman, you take care of you and your little girl."

* * *

"I just can't believe you thought you had to lie to me to get me here!" Lindsay exclaimed as Gus met them at the airport.

"We didn't lie, we just didn't want you to feel pressured, Linds, this is about relaxing!" Stella said, rubbing Lindsay on the back.

"You guys," Lindsay said, gratefully, her eyes filling with tears, though Gus could see her already shutting them down, putting the walls up.

"Oh don't cry, or you'll get me going," Gus drawled, pulling her friend in for another hug. "Now I feel odd saying this, but I have to rush you so you can go relax."

"What?" Lindsay asked as they made their way to the car, "and when did you get a jag?"

"It is Billy's mother's, didn't want y'all all wind-blown in this heat in my jeep."

"Yeah, is it always this hot?" Stella asked, shooting Gus a look.

"Not always. Just mostly. And to answer your question, Linds, Billy is treating you to a day at the spa."

"What about you two?" Lindsay asked, feeling overwhelmed.

"Don't worry about us, we'll get up to something!" Gus said, knowing full well that she had to get Stella over to city hall for a meeting and interview with the new mayor.

After receiving a text from Stella, Gus arrived back at city hall a couple of hours later. Stella's face was a complete mask, making Gus run through a gamut of emotions. She didn't say anything as she pulled away from the curb, headed to the spa where they would be joining Lindsay for a couple of treatments of their own.

Stella just looked out the window, unsure of how to process everything. "I got the job," she said finally.

"Of course you did, Stel," Gus replied, that had never been a question in her mind.

"They want my answer before I leave and if I take it, they want me to start right away, be there for the build out of the new lab."

"How do you feel about all of this?" Gus asked, not wanting to sway Stella with any opinion of her own.

"I'm not sure. Just when I make my mind up that I need a change, things happen and it seems like the universe wants me tethered to New York."

"Stella, I have a hard time picturing you tethered to anything or anywhere!" Gus retorted, grimacing as she carefully parallel parked the car that she felt was worth more than she was worth. "Okay, cabs for the rest of your visit!" she said, as she got out.

Stella laughed. "Don't let Flack hear you say that, city girl, he'll never let you drive."

"I think I am over that," Gus admitted.

"Speaking of being over things and Flack..."

"Not now, Stella, after drinks. Now, we spa!" she said, entering the relaxing sanctuary.

The three days passed too quickly, full of them eating too much, drinking just as much, laughing, catching up, gossiping, teasing, karaoke, tranny bingo at Billy's club, sightseeing, and shopping. The only thing they didn't do was sleep very much. "It isn't always like this, right?" Lindsay asked, Stella looking expectantly at Gus for her answer.

"No, y'all, just like it isn't always Mardi Gras, except for nitwit tourists on Bourbon, I just wanted to laisser les bons temps rouler with my friends."

"Speaking of Bon Temps, anyone else looking forward to next month, I need more Bill and Eric back in my life."

Lindsay and Gus just stared at Stella, not believing those words had come out of their friend's mouth. "Stella Bonasera, how come you never told me you were a Trubie?" All three collapsed into laughter as Billy just refilled their drinks.

While waiting on Stella to come downstairs before returning them to the airport, Gus studied Lindsay as she drank her coffee. "How are you really doing, Linds?" she asked.

Lindsay shrugged, "fine, I hate that people keep asking me that."

Gus took a deep breath, "look, I am not going to tell you how to feel or how you should be feeling, you know I am the last person to ever do that, but I also have at least some idea of what you are going through. I know you have seen me deal in not the best way with things, and I know you have seen me zombie out on you, and I worry you might be doing a bit of that yourself."

"Don't worry, Gus, I'm not planning on running away from home, in fact, I can't wait to get back to see my husband and my baby."

Gus knew her friend was putting on a brave face and clinging to those that loved her, but she couldn't help but feel the sting in the words. If she hadn't run, would she be in a similar domestic situation now? Minus the killing a serial killer in her baby's bedroom part.

Her face must have changed because Lindsay clapped her hand over her mouth, "God, Gus, I didn't mean it like that, I was joking. You left this time for Flack, he needed space. You'll get back in like what, a week, and things will be great between you two, just wait. Though I am not wearing an ugly bridesmaid dress."

"What about an ugly bridesmaid dress?" Stella said, coming down the stairs, suitcase in hand.

"Nothing," Gus and Lindsay said in unison, dissolving into more laughter.

It was only as Stella gave Gus one last hug that she had any idea what was going on in her curly-headed friend's brain. "I'm taking it," she whispered, before saying loudly, "thanks, Gus, and see you soon."

Yes, Gus thought, she would, but in what city?


	9. Cat's out of the bag

**Chapter 27: Cat's Out the Bag**

Decision made, Stella must have not wasted a second putting her New York affairs in order, Gus first clue being the text she received from Mac that afternoon. _What did you do down there? -Mac _A terse phone call followed later, though by the time they hung up, Gus thought she had talked him down.

Danny's email was much lighter, bringing a smile to her face.

**BB,**

**Thanks for taking good care of my wife, she had a big smile on her face, though it did lessen some when I informed her how much our new place will cost. But I know she had a good time and I think you took her mind off things, she is refusing to take any time off work. I guess Stella must have had the good time as well, considering her news. I don't know if she meant for the whole lab to know about it, but when Mac started yelling, well, we kind of all figured it out. Now I am glad we didn't take a Messer family vacation down there or we might all be relocating, unless of course you know of a nice affordable 2+ bed in a good school district? Did I seriously just type that? Jesus, I'm getting old.**

**Talk to you later, Messer**

**Sheldon left her a quick voice mail, teasing about where was his job offer and Adam had her in stitches with his impression of Mac when he called. Sid was the only one she didn't hear from, she could only assume that was because news might not have traveled to the morgue yet.**

Her conversation with Flack was interesting, to say the least.

"So was this the personal stuff you were talking about before, why you might want to stay longer?" Flack asked, an edge to his voice. He was sure that Stella's announcement meant he had lost Gus forever.

"Sort of, I knew their interest in her was piqued," Gus admitted.

"And how did they know about her to even be interested in her?" he pushed.

"Because I may have told her how awful the lab was here and I may have bragged on y'all a little too much," Gus replied, sheepishly.

He decided to just come out with it, tired of not having firm ground underneath them. "Are you not going to come back because Stella is coming there?"

"Don, what are you angry about? I know Stella is your friend, but this is a great opportunity for her. She would be invaluable down here. I expected Mac to bite my head off, but not you!"

"That isn't answering my question, are you coming home in a week or not?" Flack rubbed at his throbbing head. They had been so close, so damn close to everything working out the way he wanted it to, the way it should.

"I am coming home," Gus said, though her tone tinged with sadness.

"In a week or longer?"

"I don't know," she finally admitted, "I feel like someone should help settle Stella in and I kind of got an offer to extend my time, I haven't talked to Daddino about it, though."

"Haven't talked to our boss about it, sunshine? Did you think about maybe talking to me about it?"

"I haven't talked to anybody about it, Flack!" Gus shot back.

"Stella doesn't need you to hold her hand, Gus, I think you have done enough!"

"That isn't fair, I wasn't trying to steal her away or make her move, there was an opportunity, I told her about it, they love her, she decided to take it. She is a grown woman capable of making her own informed decisions."

"Which is exactly why she would be fine settling in without you there. Are you trying to avoid coming back here, trying to avoid me?" Flack asked through clenched teeth. He knew his anger stemmed from fear, but that didn't mean he was willing to admit that fear to her.

"No, I'm not, I just realized there is something else I need to handle here, for you, for us. I feel like I've said this already.

"We've said a lot of things already, but we still keep ending up not together," Flack snapped.

"I am not saying we aren't going to end up together, Don, that is the opposite of what I want. I am saying I may need to take a couple of extra weeks," or six months, she added to herself, "to do something for myself. If I was going on a mountain retreat in India at the end of this would you be as pissed?"

"Probably!" he snarled.

"And why is that?" she snapped back.

"Because I am getting really tired of cold showers and eating by myself and I want you, damn it!" Flack flopped down on his bed, realizing that Piroleaux had probably heard every word of their phone conversation. He was glad the Messers had signed their new lease today and that the stupid kid would be going back to the swamp soon.

"Cold showers, huh?" Gus retorted, a smirk in her voice, which dissolved into outright laughter for them both. "Look, Stella is calling in, I should talk to her since, as you pointed out, I created this mess for her. I will let you know what I am doing the second I figure out. And try to think of all the money you have saved with those cold showers. I love you, blue eyes." She had clicked over before Flack could formulate a retort.

* * *

"So you just put it all out there, huh?" Gus asked her friend.

"I figured I needed to treat it like a band-aid, just yank that sucker off. It still hurt."

"How much does my Uncle hate me?"

Stella chuckled, "Mac will be fine, especially since I said I would help find my replacement. Not that anyone will truly replace me."

"So when are you coming?"

"I'm not sure. How much longer are you there for?"

"I don't know. It is only supposed to be a week, but I was thinking of taking some time. There is another thing," Gus started.

Something in her tone caught Stella's attention, "yeah?"

"I got an offer to extend my time here for six months."

"That would mean you will have been gone a year."

"I can do basic math Stella! I wouldn't even consider it, but...look you know how I kept this whole New Orleans job thing between us? I need you to do the same for me."

"Sure, what is it, Gus?"

"I think the Commander of the new cold case squad knows more about my parents' murder than he is letting on and I think he will help me solve it if I stay on for the six months."

"So he is withholding evidence or at least information in a homicide investigation to keep you there for his own benefit? What kind of place am I getting myself into?"

"That kind of place, but you'll be an island of integrity, I am sure of it, you have the chance to exact some lasting, positive change. I know I need to get back to New York, but it is my parents, Stel! Remember what it felt like for you to find out about your mother?"

"True, but what about Don?"

"I'm trying to figure that out, Stella."

'Just remember he loves you in the here and now, you can't live in the past."

* * *

Gus' final official week in New Orleans slipped by in the blink of an eye. She hadn't made any decisions yet, even though she knew she was down to the wire. She did know that Stella was coming to look for a place and meet some important people, and she wanted to at least stay for that. How long after that, she couldn't decide.

She wasn't even torn between her head and her heart on this one, it was her heart and her heart. Her past and her present, and she didn't know how to ignore one or the other and still have a future she would be happy with. Luckily, other people had all of her best interests at heart...

"She can't really be thinking about staying, can she?" Flack said, sitting down in Stella's office while she sorted through her things.

"I don't know what she is thinking. Maybe things have changed down there," Stella said, seeing the pain clearly etched on her friend's face as he sat slumped in the chair. She knew what Gus was thinking, but she didn't want to betray her trust. She also wanted Flack to show some damn initiative. Danny flew to Montana for Lindsay and that was well before things got serious between the two of them.

Flack narrowed his eyes, "yeah, like you deciding to move there for one."

"Flack!" Stella warned, though she knew he would place some of the blame on her, and she was willing to take it. Gus had been pretty clear that she wanted back in New York as soon as the exchange was up until Stella announced she was moving, Flack didn't need to know about the Malleville issue.

Flack growled, "I know, she is her own person and has to make up her own mind, but I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought she wanted back in New York, permanently. I feel like I have lost her so many times already and I can't go through that again. If Jess' death has taught me anything, it is that things change in the blink of an eye and regret will eat you alive. I can't sit back and let her stay someplace she doesn't belong. Gus belongs here, in New York, with me, forever. I should have gone after her last time and I still can't get over that regret and I am sure as hell not going to add to it but not fighting for her this time!"

"Don, I'm not the one you should tell this to. If you want Gus back, tell her that," Stella looked at him with ire. "Come down there with me, and tell her yourself."

"To New Orleans? You want me to leave New York, get on a plane, go down to the swamp and what? Throw her over my shoulder and drag her back like she is an alligator I pulled out of the bayou. Come on, Stel, be serious."

Stella had a twinkle in her eye. Sure her decision to leave New York had been difficult, but that didn't mean she didn't care for the team any less, she wanted what was best of all of them. And she knew what was best for Don Flack was Augusta Broussard.

"I am being serious. How many letters has she written you? All of us. How many times has she called, emailed? You are right, she doesn't belong there, her home is here, in New York, with you. I know you have struggled, but so has she, don't give yourself the chance to regret anything. If you want to spend your life with her, go down there and tell her that, see what happens."

"I already tried that, I told her I loved her and I wanted to work on things when she got back to New York."

"So your only willing to work on things on your home turf? Not to mention telling her you love her isn't the same as telling her you want to spend your life with her."

"I tried that too, remember, I give her a ring three years ago and it was like poof, disappearing Gus."

"And look how much has happened since then. Answer me, honestly, do you still love her and want to be with her, as much as you did when you gave her the ring?" Stella crossed her arms over her chest, scrutinizing him.

"I'll always love her, and I want her even more, that isn't the issue."

"Forget about the issues for just a second."

Flack smirked at her, "that's like saying forget about the evidence, can't believe you would tell me to do that."

"I already know what the evidence says, Don, I'm just trying to get my suspect to confess. Fly down with me, it would be nice to have a familiar face with me and just see what happens."

"What if what happens it all goes to hell?"

"In the unlikely event that happens, drinks are on me."

* * *

**Chapter 28: Knock 'Em Dead (Flack&Stella)**

"I'm going to go for a run," Gus said, her nervous energy over Stella coming to find a place to live winning out over sitting on the porch with Billy.

"You sure sugar, I can make you another drink?" Billy said, pointing at her empty tumbler, though slightly relieved, as she had seemed awfully cagey.

"Unless you need my help, Stella is my friend after all and I am the one that helped convince her to give up her fabulous life in New York to move to the swamp."

Billy laughed, "somehow, I don't think anyone convinces Stella to do anything she doesn't want to. Buela and I have everything under control, darling, enjoy your run."

Gus pulled on a NYPD t-shirt and shorts. Jogging around Audubon Park, she marveled at the amount of humidity despite it not even officially being summer yet and how quickly she started sweating in places she had forgotten about.

All in all Audubon was the same old park it had always been. University students still whizzed by on their roller skates and bicycles, soaking up the sun and defying the speed limits, feeling celebratory after finals. The security firm still harassed owners for letting their dogs off their leashes. Tourists still ate picnics on slightly soggy grounds in hopes of catching some celebrity jogging in the park from the cloisters of Audubon Place. Same old, same old. But how strange it felt to Gus, how not like Central Park or her own beloved Gramercy. Gus felt caught between space and time.

Everything and nothing were different, she thought, lost somewhere between memory and reality, so much so that she didn't even notice the angry goose crossing her path to get to the offering of bread left from one of the picnics. She tripped over the goose, sending feathers and herself flying, and garnering one angry honk. Gus found herself laughing while wishing it was the angry honk of a yellow cab instead. "Jesus girl, you are going back to New York soon enough," she chastised herself. Gus righted herself, hoping no one had noticed her less than graceful fall, it was then she noticed them.

Jogging towards her was a pack of the trust fund kids, a mix of private school graduates who got their degrees on the merits of money alone and didn't do much, other than see and be seen. Gage's kind of people. Who had unfortunately been her kind of people for a short time as well, however long ago. Why weren't they all at happy hour avoiding going home to wives and children they hated? Feeling bile rise in her throat, Gus hoped they would just go on past without recognizing her. Of course luck wasn't on her side.

"Augusta Broussard, are you still in town?" one of them, Nick, said, his eyes flicking over her hungrily.

"Barely, I head back to New York soon." Gus just needed to decided how soon was soon.

"You've been awfully scarce since Mardi Gras, New Orleans not good enough for you anymore?" Ross retorted with a smirk.

Gus was torn between irritation and guilt, why she was now well aware that New York was home, she didn't want anyone to ever think she had turned her back on New Orleans, not to mention Stella was coming to live here. "I've just been busy, trying to get the NOPD in shape for all y'all," she replied with a smile.

"When do you head back?" Nick asked

"Still working that out," Gus said, wishing she had a more definitive answer.

"We have to head now, but you should come meet up with all of us tomorrow, have a real New Orleans send off. Dinner at Antoine's then on to Pat O's, catch up with everyone before you leave" Nick said, moving in closer to her.

Gus instinctively moved away, "Ah sure, Nick. That would be great." She instantly regretted agreeing, didn't even know why she had, except maybe to prove to herself that she had closed Gage's chapter forever.

"Same time, same place, you know, the usual, except now some of us have to get babysitters now," Ross said, pulling Nick away and pointing at some scantily clad sorority girls.

"Duty calls" Nick leered. Gus stood there shaking her head, status quo for some things it seemed.

The next day dawned bright and hot. Gus groaned as she rolled over, temporarily confused why her bed was empty. She was dreaming about Don, again. Billy was at the table, breakfast pastries surrounding him, coffee dripping good and strong into the pot. "Well what do you want to do on one of your last days?"

"I am going back to New York, not dying, Billy, I can come visit, you know."

"Because you have done so well at that the past few years."

"Don't give me that," Gus said, though she knew it was the truth, "I'll be better about it now, I promise, I will be better about a lot of things."

"You better mean that, sugar, otherwise I will come up there and drag you here myself."

"I don't doubt that, William Brooks. How about we do a little Magazine Street stroll?"

"Sounds divine, darling." They spent a gorgeous day traipsing up and down Magazine, finally stopping for a late afternoon iced coffee, laden down with shopping bags.

"So where should we take dear Stella to dinner, somewhere where she will see how wonderful it is to be a New Orleanian?"

"I'm not sure, Billy, but it won't be tonight. Some big wigs from City Hall are wooing her tonight, private room at Galatoire's and everything, notice I wasn't invited. She's going straight from the airport to meet them."

"She's not even coming here to freshen up first?" Billy asked, looking horrified.

"I am sure Stella will be gorgeous no matter what."

"Fine, where should we go then?"

Gus averted her eyes, "actually, I am kind of meeting Nick and Ross and the rest for dinner. Soon in fact."

"Jesus, Gus, the trust fund gang. Why are you punishing yourself?"

Gus smirked for a moment, "Billy, aren't we part of the trust fund gang?"

"Not like them, never like them. Besides, you don't come from much more than life insurance and a little West-LA oil money," Billy mocked.

"Thanks, sugar" Gus sniffed.

"You know what I mean. You didn't like them before, why would you want to go out with them now? Look around, you told Gage where to stick it at Comus, you don't have to do anything you don't want to!"

"I know, but, I just am trying to make peace with everything," Gus declared.

"You know you don't have to go that far, but whatever, try to have fun with those pariahs. I'll be at the club later, if you want to come by. It's drag show night!" Billy's eyes lit up.

Gus suddenly drew her friend into a gigantic hug, "Billy, I am so happy for you" she exclaimed her eyes welling with tears.

"Because of drag queens?" Billy looked confused.

Gus sniffed, trying to not break into sobs, "No, because you're happy" she wailed.

"Baby, you will be too" he said patting her on the back, thinking about the phone call he had received from Stella while Gus had been in a fitting room, the one informing him that a certain blue-eyed detective would be joining her in coming down.

Flack sighed, turning his phone off before settling into his seat. No answer on Gus' cell, which didn't shock him, they had spent six months trading voice mails, but he wasn't about to leave a voice mail for this. Stella was already settled into her seat, pulling out files. Before the fasten seat-belt sign was even turned off, a child behind him started kicking his seat. "It's gonna be a long flight" he sighed, waving a flight attendant down for a drink as Stella smirked at him.

Billy watched as Gus wrinkled her nose in the mirror. "If you look this miserable before you have even left, imagine how you will look by the end of the night. You'll give yourself wrinkles," Billy sing-songed, zipping up her dress.

"You sound like your Mama," Gus smiled at him in the mirror.

"Hush your mouth, here you go," Billy replied, clasping a strand of pearls around Gus' neck, "perfect" he cooed.

Gus fought back another eye roll, "sure you won't be needing these tonight?"

"I don't wear pearls or dresses, sweetie, I am all man," Billy, replied, sashaying out.

Flack sucked down another drink on the flight. Between the kid kicking his seat, his legs longer than even the bulkhead allowed for and Stella laughing at him, Flack was beginning to think this was a bad idea. The plane started its descent, and Flack studied the landscape below. It took him a moment to realize that the roofs weren't painted blue, but were still covered in tarps nearly five years later. Flack grimaced and leaned his head back on the headrest.

As soon as they stepped off the plane into the jet way, Flack was immediately hit with air so thick it felt like it was gripping his lungs in a death lock. Perspiration beaded on his brow, he wiped at it while rolling up his sleeves. Flack took a tentative sniff of the air, air scented with things he couldn't identify, and he was sort of glad he couldn't. He followed Stella toward baggage claim, taking in the dilapidated airport, tinny jazz playing over the loudspeaker. "You sure about this, Stel?" he asked, pulling both of their bags off the carousel.

"Yes, Flack, I am, more sure than I have ever been. Now what about you?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Something tells me I better answer in the affirmative," he shot back with a dimpled grin. Stella just rolled her eyes and walked toward the cab stand. They decided on two different cabs since Stella needed to head straight to the restaurant.

"You sure you will be fine?" Stella asked him as he grabbed her carry-on from her.

"I think I can manage giving the cab driver your directions, Stel," he smiled back.

"Not what I meant, Flack. I mean you aren't going to chicken out, right?"

"Good to know you believe in me."

"I do, in you both, that's why I don't want you to mess this up."

"I'm fine, Stella, have a good dinner, knock 'em dead," Flack replied, giving her a salute.

* * *

**Chapter 29: Trust Fund Gang**

Gus sat amidst the table of familiar strangers, feeling out of place to say the least. She listened to the chatter around her, same as it always was: who was doing what and who, how were the Saints going to do after their miracle season, the best acts at jazz fest, guessing how bad this hurricane season was going to be and so on. She regretted agreeing to come, but in many ways it was fitting, being reminded of why she didn't belong there made it so much easier to say goodbye, which is what she needed to do.

The cab driver dropped Flack off in what appeared to be an alleyway. Flack looked at the man with a 'don't mess with me look' as he pulled the suitcases out of the trunk. "Entrance is around front, on the park" the cab driver said before driving away. Flack wandered around to the front of the house, which did seem to be in the middle of a well manicured park.

Billy was looking for the New York Detective and was well aware of the sound of the cab driving off. "You must be the one Gussie keeps mooning over, you just going to stand there gawking all night?" Billy bellowed from the porch as Flack stood there looking confused. Flack took in the male around his age, impeccably groomed and clearly playing for the other team. Flack shook his head. "Well get your cute behind up here so I can get a good look at you in the flesh. I have the feeling pictures don't do you justice!" Billy commanded as Flack's tall figure complied.

Flack was still feeling more than a bit bewildered, you couldn't get jet lag with only an hour time difference, could you?

"Here, you look like you need one of these," Billy said shoving a drink at him. Flack took it and swallowed most of it in one drink, the bitter liquid biting at his throat. "Sugar, down here in the swamp we don't gulp sazeracs, we sip them," Billy playfully chastised, making him another.

Flack studied his surroundings and host carefully, obviously this man had money. A lot of money. And style and class. Thank god he was gay, Flack didn't stand a chance against this.

"Augusta is out playing with the trust fund gang, why I couldn't tell you, and no I did not tell her you were coming, Miss Stella made that perfectly clear and for such a gorgeous woman she is a little scary," Billy informed Flack, sitting himself down on a chaise lounge on the porch.

Flack nodded slowly, still trying to process where he was and what was going and wait, "Trust fund gang?" he asked, feeling like Billy must be talking about someone other than his Gus.

"I know, I know, she and I are technically part of them as well, but not in the same way. Republican wannabes with their confused sense of morals, don't like us gays or women who don't know their place. Gus and I never did really good with them. It was definitely more Gage's cup of tea. I am assuming you know all about that coward, thank god she finally put that little business to rest," Billy's voice was full of venom.

Flack set his jaw working, his answer loud enough in silence for Billy to read. "You can find her easy enough, that gang doesn't have the ability to come up with an original thought. Dinner at Antoine's, drinks in the patio at Pat O's, god forbid you try to put them in the piano bar or someplace where they can't be displayed. If they stay out late enough they may make it over to the Ritz, but who knows. Same as always. Friday at the Columns, Saturday in the Quarter, Sunday the whole SSDC convenes on a rooftop somewhere. Blah blah. Bo-ring I say. Anyway, I can draw you a map, but I have to get down to my club before someone tries to take Pudding's tiara again."

Billy rambled on, sketching a map out on a napkin."I would invite you to come with me, but I am afraid the ones that look like girls are really boys and the actual boys would like you a little more than you would be comfortable with. And I know Gus would never forgive me if I did manage to turn you. Though the things we would do to such a fine specimen of man…" Billy looked flushed and started fanning himself, "mint julep, it will cool us both down" Billy offered.

Flack still hadn't said much, more digesting the information he had received and trying to come up with a game plan. He also knew he needed to keep drinking before he lost his nerve or found his sanity and headed back to New York where he belonged, where he had thought Gus belonged.

Flack was trying to follow the directions Billy had written on the napkin. He was told to find Good Friends if he couldn't find Gus, but to be prepared for a lot of admirers. He was also supposed to avoid something called a hand grenade. Apparently the drink, not the actual weapon. The street he was on was closed off from traffic and filled with people in various stages of inebriation. Girls in short skirts called from doorways and Flack tried to discern if they were selling drinks or themselves. Neon lights for a variety of clubs glowed in the dark, a variety of musical styles assaulted the senses. Flack took a deep breath, still trying to separate all the smells in the heavy air. He caught mold, earth, a few bodily fluids, coffee, chemicals and a certain aroma he couldn't put his finger on, other than to call it essence of crazy.

Antoine's had been not so helpful until he flashed his badge, which apparently still worked here despite not being the tell-tale crescent and star shape he had seen attached to the NOPD officers roaming the area. Hopefully he would have better luck at this Pat O's place, because he really didn't want to meet whatever admirers that may be awaiting him at Billy's club. God how was it so hot and humid here? He needed something to drink, but the only thing available seemed to be of the alcoholic variety. "When in Rome," he said finally going for a daiquiri.

* * *

Gus slumped at the table in the courtyard of Pat O's, marveling how nothing had changed for this group. It didn't matter that the federal government has screwed over the city, that they sat poised on the brink of another hurricane season with no guarantees that the levees could stop a trickle, and that the murder rate had climbed to two times that of New York. No, instead these man-boys and pretty girls lounged around with their popped collars and sky-high wedges in the middle of ruins, not caring about the destruction or politicians with money in their freezer or having to undo all that incompetent mayor did. Of course they didn't care, Gus mused, none of it effected them. The few that had jobs barely worked, and she seemed like the sideshow freak for both having and enjoying a job. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could click her heels and be back in New York.

Flack caught sight of Gus in the middle of a table in the courtyard. Her hair falling over her bare shoulders in a golden curtain, a pearl necklace flashing brightly against her tanned skin in a simple flash of elegance. Flack took in the dress skimming her thighs and the impossibly high sandals crisscrossing her feet, he almost didn't recognize her. Gus threw her head back in laughter at something the uppity twit in the fruity polo beside her said. This sandy haired man-boy with too white teeth and hideous plaid shorts and, god were those boat shoes? At least she didn't sound genuine in her laughter, though the jerk with the lobster on is polo didn't seem to care or notice as he stroked her arm. Flack hesitated on his approach, long enough to have a drink that looked like kool-aid shoved into his hands.

He rooted around the massive amounts of fruit floating in the drink and took a long gulp, making a face at his cloying sweetness. But he was too hot to care, he certainly hadn't dressed right for this hellish heat and it wasn't even summer. A girl in non-existent shorts and cutoff shirt who looked barely legal gave him a long look, "where you from, baby?" she asked.

"New York," Flack replied, taking another long gulp.

"Nice," she said appraising him and waving over another drink, "you must be thirsty," she said replacing his hurricane.

Flack continued to stare across the courtyard filled with a strange assortment of people from all over the place. Gus was now illuminated by a fountain in the center of the courtyard with multicolored flames shooting out the center of it. Flack couldn't figure out why anyone wouldn't want a fire in this heat. He watched entranced as Gus flicked her hair over her shoulder with manicured fingernails and Flack felt like he was looking at an alien pod of his partner. He couldn't help but notice the relative ease in which she sat, surrounded by these other people that looked remarkably similar to how she did now.

Sweat continued to slip down his brow at such a rate, he accepted another drink from the tuxedo clad waiter passing by. Flack watched as Gus leaned toward the man-boy beside her, him with his stupid flopping haircut, leaning around Gus and waving down the server for another drink, gesturing at Gus' empty glass. Just then another perfect clone came to toward the table with his too white teeth, too bright clothes, too everything. Flack watched in rapt silence as Gus was pulled in for a hug and a kiss by the Ken doll clone. Flack couldn't take any more, this was stupid, Gus was right to wonder if she shouldn't stay here, obviously she was well liked. He slammed down the rest of his drink, dropping the over sized cup in the trash as he walked down the cobblestone alley and back into the dizzying, drunken chaos of Bourbon street.

Gus pushed Ross' inebriated form off of her, catching sight of a familiar form out of the corner of her eyes. She felt her breath catch, her heart pounding wildly. It couldn't be, it wasn't. End of story. Despite wishing to see him a million times over the past six months, she knew there was no way he would come after her, he hadn't done it the last time she had run away, why would he do it now, especially since she would most likely be back in New York in a few days. Flack wasn't like Danny, he wouldn't fly across the country for her.

Her phone started buzzing, Billy, probably checking to make sure she hadn't shot anyone. "Excuse me, y'all, I just have to take this, Billy is probably wondering if we want a table at his club," she said, attempting to be nice.

"Still hanging out with that queen?" Robert asked, his lip curling in disdain.

Gus had heard more than enough, she had been letting the comments roll off of her for most of the night, and she knew despite her desire to be polite on one of her last nights in town, she didn't belong here with them and she had taken all she could. "Why yes, I am, and I happen to enjoy his company a hell of a lot more than all y'all's." Gus threw some money on the table before storming out, ignoring one of the women twittering after her, "I do believe Augusta had turned into a rude old Yankee!"

* * *

**Chapter 30: Boat Shoes**

"Argh, you were so right, Billy, I should have let sleeping dogs lie," Gus said calling her friend back.

"Well of course I was sugar," Billy replied, "now did he find you?"

"What, who find me?" Gus questioned, slipping past the groping hands in the courtyard and finally pushing her way out to Bourbon Street.

"Your hunka burning cop" Billy joked.

"Billy, what are you talking about?" Gus asked, teetering over discarded go-cups and puddles best left unidentified.

"That blue-eyed detective you have mooned over, the one you are obviously desperately in love with. Stella brought him with her, he showed up on the doorstep a little while ago. Quite the hostess gift, if you ask me," Billy chuckled to himself.

"Don, Don Flack is here in New Orleans?" Gus struggled to not fall as she cut through the Quarter.

"In all his tall, dark, and handsome flesh," Billy confirmed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Gus said with a sigh, leaning against a brick wall for a moment.

"I wouldn't kid you about such things, honey. I sent him down with specific directions to Antonie's and Pat O's. I warned him to avoid gutter punks, lucky dogs, and hand grenades," Billy gave himself a pat on the back.

"Oh Lord, so it was him I saw. I gotta go find him, Billy!" Gus exclaimed, realizing he had seen Ross' pawing at her and, of course, had misinterpreted it.

"Good luck, sugar" Billy rang off.

Gus' eyes darted up and down Bourbon, packed as usual on a Saturday night, the neon dizzying and the smells nauseating. Gus eyed the seedy strip clubs to the left, the gay bars to the right and the cheesy tourist traps in front of her. Not to mention the number of side streets, Flack could be anywhere.

"Show your tits!" came a drunken cry from a balcony above her.

"For the love of all that is holy!" Gus snapped.

"What's wrong, don't have anything to show?" the drunken man yelled, almost falling off the balcony. "Yeah come on, woo hoo!" the jeers of his companions egging the man on.

The taunting had always bothered her, but tonight it pushed her over the edge, "hey ass face, Mardi Gras was in February and a classy girl would never flash her goods for a cheap strand of plastic beads from China!" she turned on hr heel, storming down the street, feeling the sting of a broken stand of beads hit her back.

Gus kept walking, trying to not trip in the ridiculous shoes Billy had talked her into buying that day, dodging white trash vacationers who thought it was somehow appropriate to bring their stroller bound children into the French Quarter at night. "Damn tourists," Gus said, sending a glass bottle sailing to the gutter where it shattered, one simple rule of no glass and they couldn't even follow that. She cut off down St. Louis to Royal and then down Pirate's Alley to the square, pausing to rub her feet and stare at the statue in the back garden of the Cathedral.

Gus walked into the square, seeking refuge on the benches facing St. Louis Cathedral, easily frustrated when that didn't calm her. Sighing, Gus got up from the bench and leaned against the cast iron fence of the gated park in the middle of the square. Finding someone in the Quarter on a weekend night was a lost cause.

It was then she saw a familiar figure cut somewhat unsteadily around the side of the Cabildo. He looked confused and lost, an expression that did not belong on Flack's face, even though she had seen it far too often before she had left town. He also appeared more than a little tipsy, in a vastly different way than all the times she had picked up from bars around New York during his journey of self-destruction. Gus bounded over to where Flack was standing in front of a palm reader who was trying to entice him with a tarot card reading. "Sorry, you will have to find another easy mark tonight," Gus said to the woman in the head-scarf.

Grabbing Flack's elbow to steady him, "What are you doing here?" she asked. Flack shrugged, looking disheveled. "What all have you had to drink?" she furthered questioned, noticing his glassy eyes.

"Your friend gave me a couple of those drinks at his place- what do ya call them…a sazerac, oh and then one with mint in it, and a daiquiri. And then I had three of them red things at the horrible bar, those things are too sweet."

"So you had two sazeracs, a mint julep, a daiquiri and three hurricanes? Have you eaten?"

Flack started to shake his head, but then stopped, "no, I haven't. I also had a couple of drinks on the plane. Kid kept kicking my damn seat and Stella thought I was going to strangle it, so she bought me a couple of whiskeys."

Gus was amazed he was still standing, "let's get you to Café du Monde, get you some coffee".

"Can't," Flack barked.

"Can't what do you mean can't?" Flack slumped on the nearest bench, Gus stood before him hoping he wasn't going to hurl.

"Can't, can't do this, can't give you all this," he said softly.

Gus leaned down to look at him, "Can't do what?"

"Fruity polo shirts, boat shoes," Flack shuddered, turning a little green.

Gus couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, I know blue eyes, those people make me sick too. Now you need something to cut all this alcohol." Gus dragged him across the street for a couple of strong coffees.

Flack didn't improve much with coffee, "this seemed like a better idea in New York," he said.

"Just eat a beignet" Gus said pushing the plate toward him. He looked at the sugar-coated puffs and turned greener. "Alright, I am taking you home, but please don't puke in Miss Loretta's Jag. She'll kill me, I knew I should have taken the jeep," Gus said pulling him toward the parking lot and shoving him into the car. Flack leaned against cool window glass, wanting to say so much but not able to form any words.

Back at the Brook's house, Flack went directly around to the front of the house, as he had entered before. Gus searching for the key to the back door and looked up to find him gone. "Don't pull a me," Gus called out, moving to the front of the house.

Flack couldn't bring himself to climb the wide stairs leading up to the house, choosing instead to slump against an oak tree. Gus went over to help him up, but he dragged her down to sit beside him. Flack leaned back, lying in the damp grass and staring up into the night sky. The park was silent. "I love you sunshine," Flack said finally, "but maybe you do belong here and not in New York. I, I definitely belong in New York." He found that he was unable to sit up.

"Flack, I am not going to have this kind of discussion with you while you are experiencing your first New Orleans drunk," Gus said, laying back on the grass beside him, "but I can't believe you came here. I am supposed to be back in a few days and we said we would work everything out then."

"I know, but I was talking to Stella and she said I shouldn't wait if what I really wanted was you, so here I am." With that, Flack turned on his side and threw up about ten kinds of liquor into the base of the oak tree.

"On that fine note, let's get you to bed, you are going to hurt something fierce in the morning," Gus said, pulling Flack to his feet.


	10. My city not my home

**Chapter 31: What Happened?**

Flack woke up in a panic the next morning, light streaming into the blinding white room. His head was pounding, his tongue felt like moss was growing on it and he wasn't really sure where the hell he was. He was, however, aware of Gus staring at him from only a couple of inches away. "Gah!" he screamed and immediately regretted it. Flack grabbed his head and dove under one of the feather pillows.

"Morning to you too, blue eyes," Gus said amused, and well aware that Flack was experiencing a special brand of hangover that only New Orleans could offer.

"What the hell happened?" Flack asked, thoroughly confused as Gus yanked the pillow off of his head.

Gus suppressed a snicker, "I bet you would like to know. I'll be right back, I am sure Buela has coffee for Stella already on, though I didn't see her or Billy last night."

"Buela?" Flack asked, still foggy headed.

"Billy's maid, well originally Big Daddy and Miss Loretta's maid and now Billy's, though she is older than dirt and needs to retire," she slipped out of the bed. Flack watched as Gus left the room, clad in a silk robe and gown, looking like she owned the place.

"God help me," he moaned, sticking one foot on the ground to stop the world from spinning, "Junior you aren't in New York anymore."

As she expected, Buela had set out coffee and breakfast pastries and was currently dusting the dining room. "Mister Billy is still in bed, Miss Gussie, and your pretty friend already left, said she wanted to get an early start, looked like she was on a mission," Buela said as Gus pulled down a couple of coffee mugs.

Gus poured the coffee, grabbed a couple of pastries, located the vitamins that would help ease Flack's hangover and padded back to the bedroom. "Here," Gus said heading back into the bedroom and shoving a mug full of coffee and a danish at Flack along with a handful of pills.

"Thanks," Flack said, struggling to pull himself to sitting position and taking a long pull of the mug. "What the hell happened, where the hell am I and is this mud?" Flack said with a face after taking a drink of the coffee laced heavily with chicory.

"New Orleans to the first two and practically to the last," Gus smiled, "I have never seen you like you were last night, not even with..." she trailed off, not wanting to bring up the dark times before she left New York.

"That is because I have never been that drunk before, no one has been that kind of drunk before," Flack continued to gulp the coffee, despite its earthen like properties, though he couldn't stomach the idea of eating anything, a first for him.

Gus wasn't able to hide her small snort, "how much of yesterday do you even remember?"

"I remember seeing Adam about some evidence and when I mentioned you, he wouldn't shut up about coming to see you for Jazz Fest and then Danny was talking about how much it helped Lindsay to come here and then I had the talk with Stella and next thing I know, I was buying a plane ticket and then there was the kid kicking my seat. Then there was the humidity, how can it be so friggin' humid?" Flack paused for a long moment willing his head to ease up on its pounding for a moment, "then Stella got her cab to go to dinner and I came here and, ah, met your friend Billy, who is a real piece of work I might add, he wrote down directions to come find you," Flack glanced down at his forearm, where sure enough there were directions and a little note that said, If lost please return to... and the address of Good Friends.

"Lovely," Gus smirked, "and?" she asked.

"That is where it starts to get fuzzy, more than fuzzy really," Flack sighed and leaned his head in his hands resting on his knees, "it feels like a got run over by a truck."

"More like a hurricane or three," Gus quipped.

Flack looked up in slight panic, "what a hurricane is coming?"

Gus chuckled out right at that, "calm down, sugar, we are barely into the season. I meant the Pat O's kind."

"Hurricanes, the courtyard, that popped collar guy," Flack said, his voice growing icy, "you, you were there but you didn't look like you. I felt like I didn't know you," he continued, looking crestfallen, "and then you were worried about me hurling in Miss Loretta's car. Who is Miss Loretta anyway?" Flack wrinkled his forehead.

"Billy's mama, it was her jaguar that got us home last night, my jeep wouldn't start and I was running late and Billy didn't want me to take a cab to meet the trust fund brigade..." she trailed off, realizing she was babbling.

Flack studied Gus as she had trailed off, he could tell she was deep in thought as she chewed on her lip in concentration. He also knew she was nervous by the way she was twirling on her hair. He fought down the urge to scoop her up in an embrace, still haunted by her sitting sparkling at that table like she belonged. "Sunshine, I feel like a fell down the rabbit hole," he said coming up behind her as she stared out the window overlooking the park.

"Welcome to New Orleans, dawlin', if you are lucky that feeling won't ever go away," Gus smiled as she turned to face him. She looked like she was about to lean into him, but instead ducked around him, "I need a shower," she said, leaving Flack alone with his thoughts and hangover.

Flack stared out at the park spread out in front of the house instead of a yard. He didn't know where to start or where he stood with Gus. He had planned on talking out everything with her once she got back in New York, where he felt settled and in control, but when Stella told him Gus was thinking about extending her stay, something in him had snapped. He couldn't handle not having her in his life.

Gus let the water run over her in the shower, trying to figure out where she stood with Flack. Yes, she had run away, more than once, and broken his heart, possibly more than once and yes, she had briefly wondered if he wouldn't do better if she didn't come back to New York and stayed in New Orleans. But she did love him more than she ever thought she could love anyone, and it was with him her heart lie, not the city she had grown up in. Now she had to convince him of that.

Gus came back into the guest room, dressed in a simple cotton dress, looking much calmer and cooler than she felt. Flack felt his heart catch as she entered the bedroom once again. Before he could speak, she held up her hand, "No talking before you shower," she said, handing him his bag, "you want real breakfast?"

Flack contemplated for a moment, "yes to shower, no to food", he replied before heading to the shower. As he let the water flow over him, he thought about how to approach the situation. Should he start? Should he wait on her to tell him what she wanted? Should he really beat her over the head and drag her unconscious body back? Chuckling slightly at the last idea, he stepped out of the shower and dried off.

Flack came back into the bedroom, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, slightly damp from both the shower and the humidity. Gus suppressed a delighted shiver at the sight and rose from her chair. "Flack, I don't know what to say here," she said staring up at him.

"I can't say I do either. Somehow it always seems I am getting into situations with you that I have never been in before," Flack replied moving slightly closer.

"I don't know why I left last time, and I don't know if I should have left this time. I just couldn't handle what was going on. I know I could not sit back and watch you destroy yourself, and I sure as hell couldn't help you do it!"" Gus cried out, wanting to move closer, but holding herself back, tears filling her eyes. "I do know that I still love you, as much as ever, but I don't know if I have managed to banish all those things haunting me or if I'm just meant to be cursed."

Flack looked at her for a moment before deciding to close the distance between them, he had wanted to wrap his arms around her countless times over the past six months, he shouldn't hold back now. Pulling her into his arms and letting her tears stream down his chest, he inhaled her scent, "aren't we in the land of voodoo?" he asked patiently as her tears subsided and she looked up. Gus nodded, confused. "Then what better place to break this stupid curse once and for all?" Flack said kissing her forehead.

"Stop humoring me, Don," Gus said looking up at him.

"I'm not, I'm willing to do whatever to convince you that you aren't cursed and that we both have banished everything we need to," Flack replied, wiping at her tears before leaning in to give her a tender kiss that quickly turned passionate. Breaking away before he threw her down on the bed, Flack tucked a lock of hair behind her ear."How about you show me around this town of yours?"

"Only if you help me get the jeep started, to show you things my way, we need a 4x4," Gus replied, a devious smile playing on her lips.

* * *

**Chapter 32: My City Not My Home**

A simple charge of the battery and a good shaking of wires got the jeep up and running again. Flack slid in beside Gus a little nervously. "Don't think I didn't catch that look, blue eyes. Just because I don't drive in the city and you have control issues, does not mean I don't know how to drive," Gus dripped with a smile.

"I do not have control issues," Flack protested, "any more than you do."

"Good, then buckle up and hold on!" Gus said peeling back out of the driveway, WWOZ blaring on the stereo. Gus drove out west along the river first. Gus drove Flack out past sugar cane fields, a myriad of plantations and oil refineries. Pulling up on the levee, the pair stared out at the river.

"It is pretty damn mighty," Flack remarked, "but I didn't think you are supposed to be up on these."

"Didn't anyone tell you, I have a badge?" Gus shot him a look, but slid back into the jeep.

"Onward." Gus gave Flack the same disaster tour tourists still sadly paid for, but adding a lot more history and explanation. Flack was speechless, he couldn't believe his eyes, even all these years later, there still seemed to be a ring of destruction.

"I haven't even shown you the worst part," Gus said, pulling away from the lower nine and heading back uptown.

Flack suppressed a shudder until they pulled up to a house on Prytania. Flack looked at the Victorian Creole camel back cottage, happy that some of her architecture lesson was sticking, "looks fine to me. Cute even."

"Cute. That's the problem, they ginger breaded my house and added on a camel back. I think it would have been better if they had torn it down for a McMansion. And they painted it pink, pink! My house is pink Flack!" Gus cried out, dropping her head to the steering wheel.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Gus" Flack patted her knee, "but this hasn't been your house for years."

"Obviously not!" Gus cried, beating her head on the wheel a bit before looking up with a smirk, "at least these idiots gave me enough to pay for half of my co-op."

"Way to look on the bright side, sunshine."

"I think I have finally figured out that is what you have to do to survive," Gus replied, giving him a long and intense look before driving toward Mid-City.

While Flack enjoyed exploring New Orleans with Gus, her playing perfect tour guide as she showed him all her haunts and plenty of the hidden gems, he couldn't lift the worry from his mind and heart. Strolling hand in hand through City Park, Flack suddenly stopped, breaking away to face her. "Do you want to stay here?"

Gus knew the question was coming, she had known it would since the stupid words had first popped out of her mouth. She took a deep breath. "I have been useful here and I am sure Stella wouldn't mind knowing somebody while she working on setting up a new lab in a city that thrives on who you know..." she trailed off for a moment before continuing, "there would be benefits to staying, but there would be a lot of downsides as well. Like I don't really belong here."

"You looked like you belonged last night," Flack started in.

Gus sighed, "you of all people should know how looks can be deceiving. I was putting on a good show, but was hating every second of it. What I want out of life isn't here."

He studied her, believing her, but still knowing he had to ask, "are you sure?"

Gus nodded emphatically, "yes, Don, I am. I knew it last time and I am even more so now. My home, my family, my heart, it is all in New York, with you."

She grabbed a fistful of his damp t-shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. When they broke off she whelped, "wow, I've missed that, but come on, I have some people you need to meet."

Flack tried to suppress a groan, he hadn't really come down here to meet Gus' eccentric group of New Orleans friends, especially not with a raging hangover."Humor me, Flack, and then I'll treat you to best po'boy of your life, okay?"

"What is all this?" Flack asked, trying to figure out what all the ornate concrete playhouses were doing sandwiched between the city and the suburbs and why there were flowers everywhere and why there were people doing what Gus had informed him was a 'second line'. Gus just shook her head and kept walking toward older and more ornate structures. Carefully picking her way over weeds and flower remnants, Gus finally stopped in front of what Flack realized was a family crypt.

"Don, meet my parents," she said softly pointing at the stone structure.

"Augustin Henri and Marie Conrad Broussard, united in love, united in death," Flack read noticing Gus shiver.

"I didn't pick it," was all she said.

Flack nodded slowly, taking in the carvings on the mausoleum. "You're named after your father," he remarked.

Gus nodded before she cleared her throat, "Mama and daddy, you know I never did cotton much to rules, so of course I fell in love with a cop. After becoming one myself. At least I think it was after, though it may have been before, but I tried really hard not to. The problem is, he is a great guy and I do love him with all my heart, despite my best attempts at running away and denying and hiding, and I realize I really want to spend my life with him. So if you could just make sure I don't have some curse that is going to get him killed, I would really appreciate that," Gus finished, taking a huge gulp of air.

Flack at first hadn't known what to say or do, finally moving in behind Gus and letting her lean against him, fitting perfectly into his arms.

"Thanks for bringing me here," Flack said after a few minutes.

"Well, it might not be the cheeriest, but at least it is the quietest meeting the girl's parents!" Gus joked, wiping at her face.

Flack kissed her head with a sad smile, "you could say that. Though I would have much rather met them and dealt with your father being pissed off at me being a cop."

Gus turned in his arms, looking up at him, "he would have gotten over it, you're a great cop and an even better guy and my mother would have loved those dimples of yours." She traced at his jawline, looking up at him with sad eyes.

Flack covered her hand with his own, pulling it to his lips for kiss. "Curse broken yet?" he asked, with a wistful smile.

"Maybe," Gus murmured, thinking about the murder board hidden in her closet, "how much vacation time do you have?"

Flack looked down at her quizzically, "more than I will ever use, why?"

"I have one last ghost to banish. Help me figure out who killed my parents, Don, please?"

Her eyes pleaded with him, reaching out and twisting his heart, he wanted so much to help her fight any battles she ever encountered, this seemed like the least he could do. "Whatever you need, Gus, I'm there, always."

She leaned in to kiss him again, feeling like she was already home as her lips met his. "Alright, then, how about that po'boy?"

"Sure thing, I'll be right there."

Gus assumed he was taking a minute to marvel at the undead city above ground, and probably being a gentleman and letting her collect herself. She walked back to the jeep, knowing that she would be returning to New York with the love of her life, hopefully soon.

Flack looked at the mausoleum in front of him, thinking it was weird for it to be on eye level and not below him. He took a breath, feeling a little foolish, sticking his hands in his pockets. "So, um, you two probably don't really know this because she wasn't even thirteen when you, ah, but your daughter is a pretty amazing woman. She is smart and funny, gorgeous, kind, loyal, stubborn, willful, exasperating, but in a good way, I swear, she is like nobody I have ever met and I have met a lot of women. Crap, can we forget I just said that? My point is, I love her, I have for a long time, I've asked her to marry me, twice, actually, but she just wasn't ready, I guess. Or maybe we both weren't. All I know is I love her and I can't imagine my life without her in it, she makes me a better man, and I want to be there for her, like you can't be. At some point, I'm going to ask your daughter to marry me again, so if you two could maybe get her to agree to it this time, and actually have her walk down the aisle, that would be great. Also, she is one of the best damn cops ever and you would be proud of her, sir, she makes the badge something far greater than just a piece of tin." Flack nodded, pulling his hands out of his pockets and giving the crypt a small salute before walking back to join Gus.

* * *

**Chapter 33: Six Months-Cold Showers**

They arrived back at the house, somewhat subdued, but judging by the way they looked at each other, Stella and Billy could both tell they had obviously worked through at least a few of the issues hanging between them.

"You two look like something the nutria dragged in, did you make that fine man ride in your jeep all day, Augusta? I swear to go you have lost your manners!" Billy exclaimed, taking in their wind-blown and dusty appearances.

Stella and Flack exchanged a look and started laughing, but Gus, used to Billy's dramatic nature, just rolled her eyes. "Like you wouldn't make us clean up before dinner anyway, Tibs," she said, giving her friend a peck on the cheek and taking the drink he offered her.

"How can you even think about drinking?" Flack grimaced, turning green again.

"Aw, you have your first New Orleans hangover, don't you, sugar?" Billy said, batting his eyelashes at Flack and pouring him a sweet tea.

"I have learned to not mix my liquors, blue eyes and never have more than two hurricanes in one night, ever!" Gus warned, "keep that in mind Stella." She sat down on an empty rocking chair, tucking her legs underneath her.

"I will," Stella replied with a smile, "though I may have had a little too much wine last night, I don't think I can keep up, half of the people at dinner last night had been there since 11am. On a Friday!"

"Welcome to Fridays in New Orleans," Billy and Gus retorted at the same time. Billy smiled, "I am going to miss you, darling, though I imagine this one and I will get up to no good," Billy remarked hooking his thumb toward Stella. "Tell them your news, you goddess," he urged.

Flack and Gus both looked at Stella, waiting, Flack sitting on the porch swing across from the trio, until the movement made his stomach clench again. New Orleans was clearly trying to kill him. He ignored the three smirks looking up at him as Stella busted out with, "I found a place!"

"Not just a place, that amazing complex we were just looking at on Baronne," Billy remarked to Gus.

"Those converted lofts in the CBD? Oh, those are gorgeous, close to the medical center and the Quarter and the Superdome and it is amazing how affordable they are..." Gus broke off, seeing the look Flack was giving her.

Stella and Billy saw it as well, both of them rushing to step in. "But not as great as your place, Gus, perfect for me, but not your style," Stella said. "So when are you getting her the hell out of my hair, Augusta?" Billy cut in, not nearly as delicately.

Gus rose from her chair, glaring at all three of them, "nice, y'all!" She shook her head, "Stella, I am happy for you and yes, this all sounds perfect, for YOU," she stressed, "Billy, thank you for your hospitality, I appreciate it and your friendship more than I can ever express, I hope I haven't out stayed my welcome," she turned to Flack, "Don, stop freaking out, I am coming back to New York, with you, I promise." She wiped her hand across her sweating and dusty forehead, "now, if y'all don't mind I am going to take a shower." As she went to turn the knob she looked back over her shoulder, a wicked gleam in her eyes and a smile playing on her lips, "you coming or not, blue eyes? I'm sure these two are fine out here for a bit."

Billy and Stella both covered their smirks with coughs as Flack froze and then made a hasty retreat after her.

* * *

Gus was already most of the way up the stairs, laughing as Billy tuned on the house surround sound system to a funk station, when Flack caught up with her. "Where do you think you are going?" he said catching her by the waist.

"Told you, shower, wanted to show you that round these parts a cold shower is a very nice thing," she said, flinging open the door to her suite, kicking off her sneakers as she closed the blinds as Flack closed the door behind them.

He gulped for air as she untied the halter of her dress, it pooling on the floor around her. "Jesus, Gus," he growled, the air condition doing nothing to cool him down. It had been an emotional day, to say nothing of his hangover, but he would have had to been blind to not have taken in the expanse of her skin as she drove them around town in her jeep, the wind helping to give him an eyeful on more than one occasion. Not to mention his long and lonely nights had seemed longer as of late, knowing she was just out of reach and now here she was, in the flesh. In all that gorgeous, curvy, soft but strong flesh. Flack gulped.

"What, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before," Gus simpered, though she did grab a wrap from the back of a chair, slipping it around her as she danced along to the music coming from unseen speakers.

He followed her into the en suite bathroom, completely transfixed as she reached into the shower stall, turning knobs and testing the temperature. "Yeah, but it has been six months."

"My point exactly," she retorted, turning to face him and snagging his damp and dirty t-shirt in her hands, pulling him in for a kiss. He gave in willingly, how he had missed those hungry and soft lips against his own, the happiness and comfort that could only be found against them. Her palms slipped underneath the fabric, peeling it away from his sweaty skin, working it up over his chest.

"Sunshine, I can't," he said, suddenly, breaking off the kiss and capturing both her wrists in one of his hands, trying to ignore the waves of desire rolling through him.

She easily broke free from his grip, her hands lighting upon the part of his anatomy he had little control over at the moment. "Oh, I am pretty sure you can, Don, and quite well, I might add," she said with a grin that was somehow both sinful and angelic.

As she reached from the velcro on her wrap, he grabbed her hands again, more forcefully this time, bringing them down to her sides. Gus could see the battle happening within him, stopping her instinct to push. "What is it?" she asked, fearing what he might say.

"I just...can't, not don't want to, can't, not with both of our friends sitting down there knowing what is happening up here," Flack said, cupping her face in his palms, leaning his forehead against hers, before pulling slightly back.

Gus gave him a wistful smile, "we are all consenting adults, Flack, and they will be thinking we've been up to no good anyway, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity? I don't know about you, sugar, but it has been a long six months on this end." Gus moved one his palms over her mouth, giving it a kiss, realizing how much she missed their strength and soft touch.

Flack took a deep breath, "it's not just that." Gus closed her eyes for a moment after he pulled his hands back, worried about what else might be holding him back. "Before you left, I know we were..." he trailed off.

"Pretty close to having sex in some absolutely disgusting bathrooms in dive bars? Yeah not my finest moments either," Gus cut in, trying to lighten the mood.

Flack heaved a sigh, his shoulders heavy, "the thing is, that isn't how I want things between us. If we are going to get back to things being right between us, I want to do everything right, including this. You deserve better."

Gus crinkled her nose in frustration. On one hand, she agreed with him, on the other, her body was screaming at her. She gave a small growl, to which Flack replied with a dimpled grin, "yeah, it ain't exactly what I want either, sunshine, regardless, but we will have plenty of time without other people around to catch up."

"Fine," Gus grumbled, "but we have a whole lot of catching up to do. Can one of us please shower though?"

Flack rolled his eyes, "get in the damn shower, Broussard, and if you ask nice, I'll wash your back."

"Ask nice? Like you don't just want to watch me shower."

"I am trying to do right, not be a monk, sunshine," he said, pulling the wrap off of her and pushing her into the shower.

* * *

Gus padded downstairs while Flack was in the shower. Stella wasn't around, but Billy was wiping down the counter in the kitchen. He looked at her with raised eyebrows that he waggled, "did you have a nice shower?"

Gus glared at him, "let's just say, if you still need that silver polished, I'm your gal."

"Ouch," Billy replied, "was not expecting that."

"Me neither," Gus said, blowing her hair out of her face, "but he wants to and I quote, do everything right, apparently I deserve better."

Billy smiled at her, "we should all have such problems, Augusta. You do deserve it, I hope if you haven't figured anything else out by now, you have at least gotten that through your thick, gorgeous, skull." He shot her a sly grin, "though I suppose I should go tell Stella to stop making those Olympic score cards now..."

"William Brooks, you are awful, but I love you," Gus said, giving him a hug and a kiss.

"Should I be worried?" Flack said, coming into the kitchen after his long and cold shower, a smirk on his face.

"Nah," Billy replied, continuing without missing a beat, "jealous, maybe," he said with a broad smile.

"TB!" Gus admonished, turning crimson.

"Have a nice shower, you two?" Stella asked, coming in to the kitchen from her guest room.

"What?" Gus replied when both Flack and Billy looked at her, desperate to change the subject, "where we going for dinner?"

"Finally, someone asks the important questions," Billy answered giving her a wink.

* * *

"You are sure you cleared this and I don't have to cover for you?" Stella asked as they dropped her off at the airport on Sunday.

"I'm the one that does that, Stella, and I even got permission this time!" Gus protested, pulling her friend in for a hug.

"I told Mac and Tony, promise, Stel," Flack added, setting Stella's bag on the curb and adding an embrace of his own once Gus released her.

"You know I will be back soon enough, right?" Stella asked, her smile wide and her curls bouncing.

"Yeah, if Mac lets you go," Flack retorted.

Stella laughed, "like Mac lets me do anything, Don, take care of this one, and bring her back to New York, would you?" she hitched her thumb towards Gus.

"That is the plan," Flack said with a full dimpled grin.

"Yeah, well try to get it done soon, alright, otherwise all bets are off, buddy!" Stella said, wagging her finger at him.

He just raised his eyebrows in response while Gus rolled her eyes. "Stella, I am going back to New York, I promise, this swamp is all yours, not that I don't love it, but it needs some fresh blood. Good luck here and there, and keep in touch, will you?"

"Always, you too, both of you," Stella said, before grabbing her suitcase and disappearing into the crowd at the airport.

Flack wrapped an arm around Gus as they watched her get swallowed up by the hustle and bustle. He drew her to him, kissing her on the head. "How about we get out of here and go solve a murder?"

"The things you do on vacation, detective," Gus said, giving him a wry grin.

Flack scoffed, "yeah, well, next time, sunshine, I am planning our vacation and it better involve you in a bikini."

"It is pretty warm here, blue eyes, so play your cards right..." she trailed off as he goosed her on the way back to the car.

"Holy crap," Flack swore as she flung open the closet doors hiding her murder board.

She exhaled, "yeah, I know I look like a tinfoil hat girl, but I didn't know what I knew until I started just putting it all down and I still don't know what I know."

"Jesus," he exclaimed, taking in all her fragmented notes and the different colored strings criss-crossing across it all.

"There's something else you should know," Gus admitted, sitting on the bed, wringing her hands.

Flack stood, looking between her and the board, "what, what is it, Gus?"

"The only reason I ever hesitated on not coming back to you and New York was this," she took a deep breath, "the new commander in charge of cold cases, the guy partly responsible for hiring Stella? He knew my father, he offered me help to solve my parents' murder if I stayed on."

Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense to Flack, he closed the distance between them, moving to stand beside the bed. "You could have just said that!"

"I know, but there's more," Gus said, chewing on her lip, "I think he knows more than he is letting on, there is just something about him that rubs me the wrong way and then, then there is this," she reached down and slid the tub out from underneath the bed.

"What the hell is that?" Flack said, grimacing.

"I sort of stole some evidence when we were cleaning out the justice center's basement. I think it is from my parents' case, it was in with the B&Es."

Flack stared at her, a stream of thoughts running through his head and unsure of which one to run with. "How many people know about this?"

"Not many, not anyone that would say anything. Not that it matters anyway, look at it, you can't get blood from a turnip. Maybe if we had the team working on it..."

"No wonder you wanted to stay after Stella got here," Flack said, rocking back and forth on his heels, unsure how to go ahead.

"I didn't want to stay, Don, I felt like I had to, how I could I just leave them..." Gus started, feeling overwhelmed with emotion, "I know it is stupid, they are dead, what does it matter? But it is bad enough with Claire not having been found at Ground Zero and..." she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

Flack was overcome with his desire to protect her, to help her as much as she had helped him. He sat on the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms and lap, holding her as the emotions of the past flowed out of her.

"I'm sorry for being so weak," Gus said when the tears had dried up.

"Look at me," Flack demanded, hooking his finger under her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes, "don't you ever be sorry for that. You are one of the strongest people I know, sunshine, nobody would be able to handle all this without a few tears, okay? You need to let it out, I got two good shoulders for you to cry on. Now how about we see what you have going on here and see if I need to beat something out of some NOPD Brass?"

"Always a hero, huh, Flack?" Gus replied with a wry smile as she accepted his hand to help her to her feet.


	11. Family Secrets

**Chapter 34: Six LONG Months**

"Crap, how do the science guys do this all day?" Flack swore, trying to peel paper from the molded ball Gus had struggled with for weeks. He was already frustrated and Gus had only shown him the tub a few hours ago.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Gus replied.

"Knock, knock, you two, hope you are decent. Well actually I hope not, otherwise we might not be able to stay friends but I do hope you are clothed. Maybe just you, Augusta!" Billy called from the other side of the door.

"Come in, Billy," Gus said from her desk where she was feverishly searching newspaper archives online.

Flack gave her a look, "is he always like this?"

"Since I met him," Gus said, giving both men a wide smile.

Billy shrugged before continuing, "while I am well aware you two can probably find plenty to do without leaving this room, I would like to remind you that there is a whole lovely city out there to explore. OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN!" he exclaimed, his palm smacking to his chest over his chart as he finally saw what Gus had done to the closet.

"Calm down, nothing is permanent," Gus said, though she winced slightly.

"Is that what I think it is?" Billy said, "are you going all Nancy Drew on your parents' murder?"

Flack snorted while Gus jumped to her feet, "please recall, dear William, I am an actual detective with one of the best departments in the world. So, no, I am not going all Nancy Drew, but, yes, we are working on my parents' case."

Billy raised his eyebrows, stepping around Flack who was still struggling with the mess from the tub. He walked over to the murder board and raised his eyebrows. "It is about damn time, darling."

Flack and Gus both looked up at him. Gus wrinkled her nose, that was not the reaction she had expected, she had figured him giving her a speech on how she needed to just let things go, to look at him and how far he had separated himself from SWAT and look how happy he was and so on. "Seriously?" she quipped.

"I always expected you to do it sooner, but then you went all wild child with the nuns and all super nerd after that and then the storm and New York and...well, I just know you, Augusta, and you don't do well with unknowns and this," he gestured at her info, "has always been a big unknown. How can I help?"

"Really?" Gus asked, finally standing and coming over to him.

"Of course, I still have a few contacts here and there."

"I need into the story archives at the T-P, assuming they weren't washed away. I have tracked down a few stories online, but not many, there have to be more, right? I mean I know it was some dark times but my father was a police officer killed in the line of duty. I remember the press buzzing around like flies and your mama telling them off, or as close to telling someone off as Miss Loretta gets," she gave him a wistful smile and a hug, "thanks, Billy."

"You know anyone that can deal with this?" Flack growled from the floor as he ripped off what remained of a water stained photograph.

"Actually, I do, me!" Billy replied, sweeping in and scooping up the entire tub. "I volunteered at the library to help them clean up, learned a few tricks of the trade. It won't be easy or pretty and I make no guarantees, but I can at least separate this some. What is this, anyway?"

"Supposedly non-existent evidence that I stole from the justice complex," Gus said, deciding to just be honest.

"Thought you left your felony days behind you, Augusta," Billy said with a knowing look. Flack rose and cocked his head at the pair, waiting for someone to fill him in.

"I didn't commit felonies, William, I swear!" Gus replied batting her eyelashes.

"Fine, whatever, dear girl. Now I am going to go stick this in the deep freeze. I just wanted to let you two love birds know that I was running down to the club, my evening boy didn't show, that is what I get for hiring devastatingly pretty boys, I suppose. Anyway, I won't be back for a few hours at least..." he trailed off, looking between Flack and Gus.

Gus shook her head with a smile, "you are a subtle as a sledgehammer, Billy, message received, have a lovely evening."

"You too," he shot back, giving Flack a long once over before leaving.

* * *

"He was in law enforcement?" Flack asked incredulous.

"Desk job, thank god," Gus said, closing the lid to her laptop. "So, looks like we have the place to ourselves for the evening," she said, walking over and hooking her fingers through the belt loops on Flack's jeans.

"Yeah, so?" he said, smiling down at her, dimples on full display and his blue eyes the color of the sky.

"I don't know, want to grab some take out, watch a movie?" Gus teased, ducking around him and making for the stairs.

"Six long months, Broussard!" Flack called after her, not to mention the past two torturous nights with her body pressed against his and his refusal to do anything about it.

"Cool your jets, Flack, I'm just grabbing some takeout menus," she yelled back, "you'll need the energy when I am done with you!"

"Stop looking at the pizza and eat it, Don!" Gus implored as they lounged in the den with their pizza, later.

"This isn't pizza," he grumbled, poking at what Gus had informed him was crawfish, though it looked like tiny lobsters tails to him.

"I know it isn't a New York slice, but it's good and they did deliver...think of all the time we would have wasted going to get it, and then I would have had to put on pants," she said, gesturing to his t-shirt barely covering her frame.

"I gotta say, sunshine, I have missed you stealing my clothes, it's been a while," Flack replied, setting the box on the coffee table and sliding a hand up her bare leg, dinner and the movie quickly forgotten.

"We should probably pick up the trail of clothing leading in from the den," Gus suggested breathlessly a while later.

Flack rolled on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Nah, it is too damn hot here for clothes," he said, throwing the sheet off of Gus.

"The A/C is set on like 65!" Gus protested, grabbing the hem of the sheet and pulling it back up.

"Really, I didn't notice," he replied with another searing kiss.

"Children, at least pick up after yourselves!" Billy bellowed from below as he came in, causing Gus to mutter, "told ya," and Flack to break off his efforts.

"Seriously, Don, how do you survive high school?"

"That is what the backseat of my dad's car was for," Flack smirked.

Gus rolled her eyes, getting up and putting on a robe, "you want me to go put the top on the jeep?"

"It's just awkward, haven't we aged out of this?" he retorted.

Gus sniffed, "I am pretty sure I know some cab drivers that would say unless you did so in the last six months..."

"That was different. And wrong," he added, "and I am sorry."

"I didn't exactly stop you, now did I? We were both part of that whole mess, but it is behind us, right?" He nodded but didn't say anything. "I'm going to go straighten up before Billy has a coronary, don't go anywhere."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sunshine," Flack said, stretching out on the bed.

"I take it I need to find someone else to polish the silver?" Billy said as Gus came down the stairs, picking up the trail of garments.

"I do believe you do, William," Gus said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Honey child, I have not seen such a smile on your face in years, please get back upstairs and ask that man to marry you!" Billy teased.

"I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed, Tibs, but I do agree that he is a keeper."

"I could have told you that when you first told me about him, in fact I think I tried to. Now imagine all the heartache you would have saved if only you would have listened to wise old Billy."

Gus shot him a look, setting the pile of clothing down on a chair and cleaning up the remains of their dinner. "What about all is well that ends well, Billy?"

"Fair enough," he took the plates from her, "oh just stop, I can get the rest of this, get back up to your man."

"Love you, Billy," Gus said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"It is always the ones I don't want that love me," Billy exclaimed but gave her a tight hug, "though tomorrow, little miss, you are cleaning that toenail polish off the wall of my stairwell." Gus followed his gaze, looked down at her destroyed pedicure and blushed the same crimson red.

"Busted!" she exclaimed as she entered the bedroom, only to find Flack splayed practically comatose across the bed. "You have to share, blue eyes," she said, working her way under his limbs.

"What?" Flack asked, barely stirring as she struggled to get into bed.

"Billy didn't like our redecorating," Gus said, still flushing. "He also said I should ask you to marry me."

"That's nice," Flack replied absently, realizing Gus had climbed back into bed and turning to nestle her against him.

"Goodnight, Don," Gus replied with a smile, knowing he was already back to sleep before settling in to sweet dreams of her own.

* * *

**Chapter 35: Over 400**

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads, this case isn't going to solve itself!" Billy called from the hallway in front of Gus' door.

Gus' response was to pull her pillow over her head and mumble something. "What was that, sunshine?" Flack asked, bemused from where he was sitting at her desk checking his email.

"Coffee," she growled, though it was muffled.

Flack was already up with a smile, "things I honestly missed, Broussard," he said giving her a kiss on the sliver of head peeking out from the pillow and opening the door where Billy stood with a tray of coffee. "Thanks," he said, taking it.

Billy swept into the room, "as I am sure you are well aware, this one is a wilting magnolia before her coffee."

"And she will still kick your ass," Gus groaned, emerging from her cocoon.

"Alright, maybe wilting wasn't the right word. Either way, Augusta, I got you an appointment with the crime desk editor at the Times-Picayune and I suggest we not be late."

This got Gus moving quickly, "really, Paul Devon, how did you swing that? What time is it now? What time is the appointment? I gotta shower," she said, springing into action, swiping the mug of coffee from Flack's hand.

Billy and Flack dropped her off at the newspaper office, not far from where Stella's new place of employment would be in a few weeks. They didn't say where they were going, but Gus didn't ask as she was focused solely on getting information out of Billy's contact.

Paul Devon didn't keep her waiting long, the fact that she was glowering in full cop mode in the lobby probably assisted with his haste to come and greet her. She hadn't had occasion to spend much time at a newspaper, even when she was forced to work the Press Office, it was mostly writing releases and fielding telephone calls. Gus was amazed at the similarities between the T-P offices and her own beloved pit, battered desks and beleaguered workers rushing around, the sounds of typing, grumbling, yelling, the smell of burnt coffee and frustration filling the air. Paul led her to his cube, pushing stacks of yellow legal pads an clippings to the floor so she could sit.

"Miss Broussard, what was it that I can help you with? And please don't tell me you want a job because we aren't hiring and you start out in obits anyway, why everyone wants to be a crime reporter suddenly I don't know."

"No thank you, I'll leave that to my cousin, he blogs anyway. Also, it is detective, actually."

"Blogs, stinking blogs, the death of us yet. Detective, huh? Don't seem to remember you in any of my dealings with the NOPD," Paul leaned back, throwing his legs up on his desk, attacking a coffee stirrer with a certain vehemence that led Gus to believe he had recently quit smoking.

Gus pulled out her badge, "probably because I am out of the 12th precinct of the NYPD, sir."

"Long way from home, aren't you? How do you know Billy Brooks then?"

"You can say that again," Gus said under her breath before remembering to play nice, this had been home once upon a time and she knew how to play the game. "Why we went to school together, at Holy Name until my parents decided I needed the nuns at Sacred Heart. Billy finished at Holy Name and then went to Jesuit." She glanced around at his cube walls, noticing the telltale blue jay, "which is where I am guessing you know him from?" She all but batted her eyelashes at the man.

He just studied her, "yes, though I was long gone before he ever got there, he also fielded plenty of my calls when he was riding a desk at SWAT. What is he up to these days, anyway, he didn't really fill me in."

Gus wanted to get to the purpose of her visit, without having to go into all of Billy's business holdings. "Bar and club owner, this and that, you know T-B."

Paul finally smiled, "T-B, you must actually know him then, and Big Daddy?"

Gus nodded, "of course, only reason I am somewhat of a lady is because of him and Miss Loretta. afternoon me under their wings as much as the nuns would let them after my parents died." She paused, "which is why I am here. I am looking for information on their deaths. They were killed right before Christmas in 1992."

Paul pulled the coffee stir stick out of his mouth, looking at it with dissatisfaction and tossing it in the trash. "You do know there were over 400 murders that year, newspaper couldn't cover them all."

"Yes I know, but it doesn't change the fact that my parents were two of those over 400 and my father was an NOPD detective, I remember the media hounding my Aunt and I at the funeral and after...so there has to be something!"

"Yeah, four to six feet of water in our archives," Paul protested, but taking in the look of haunted determination on the younger woman's face, he found himself saying, "but let me see what I can do. I can't promise it will be right away. Speaking of keeping things afloat, we are trying to keep a newspaper publishing here."

Gus fought the urge to roll her eyes, "anything, anything at all, and I am good with moldy basements, I have spent the past six months in one at the justice complex."

"Thought you said you were with the NYPD," Paul narrowed his eyes at her, his instincts were kicking in.

"I was on loan, and exchange program, setting up the new cold case system, working on getting all the cold evidence sorted," she shrugged, not liking the change she saw in the man's expression, he had a bloodhound look to him suddenly.

"I'll see what I can find, give me their stats and I will get on it when I can," he handed her one of the many legal pads and a pen. "I trust you can see yourself out?"

Gus wrote down the requested info and nodded, rising with what she hoped appeared to be a genuine smile, "thank you sir, and I will tell Billy you said hello."

She met Billy and Flack back out front looking dejected. "Sunshine?" "Sugar?" the two men inquired at the same time. Gus shrugged, "he's going to look into things, but I don't hold out much hope."

Flack looked over his shoulder at her in the backseat, "not like you to give up so easy, Gus," he said, giving her a small smile.

"I'm not giving up," Gus protested, "but maybe I am just being ridiculous."

"You better not be giving up, otherwise I just wasted all my boyish charms on that librarian to help with that disgusting tub for nothing!" Billy exclaimed. He looked at Gus in the rearview mirror, "and in the interest of full disclosure, I may have used some of his as well," he continued, gesturing to Flack.

"Dimples, eyes or badge?" Gus said with a snort.

"Shut it," Flack protested.

"All of them," Billy replied.

"First thing first," Billy said as they arrived back at his home, "we need to get that mess of information out of that closet and out where we can all see it. Nothing stays in the closet in my house!" Gus and Flack rolled their eyes but were already making their way upstairs.

* * *

**Chapter 36: Family Secrets**

"So what do we know?" Flack asked as they set up in the mostly unused formal living room.

"And what do we want to know?" Billy added, reminding himself to shut the pocket doors the next time his mother came over.

"A lot of crap and not a lot of real information," Gus replied, still looking downcast.

"Well we at least have this," Billy said, pointing to the tub and its now mostly separated contents, "and you, sugar, though I hate to point it out."

Gus looked up at the photographs of her parents on the portable white board they had set up. Dismantling the information she had collected upstairs served to remind her that she didn't have much to go on and as Paul had also pointed out, there were a lot of murders that year, so her father could have worked on any number of them. Back in the early nineties, the homicide division was centralized, they were called out to any scene in the city from the French Quarter, it wasn't until a few years later when the Feds threatened to step in and a new chief was elected that they moved to a normal precinct based system.

She had scribbled words and phrases that she remembered from the time period before their murders, though her recollection was fuzzy at best. Mostly she remembered her father shutting himself up in the guest room with stacks of files and plenty of beer. He only did this when the cases were bad enough he wanted to shield his endlessly curious daughter and when his wife was in one of her moods.

That had happened more and more often those days, Gus recalled. Her mother slipping between being the perfect housewife and a shell of her former self who refused to get out of bed. Gus was already at Sacred Heart by that time, but as a day student with parents who weren't filthy rich, she didn't fit in and often sought solace at the Brooks compound, Miss Loretta and Marie having formed a friendship in the early days while serving on the parent's board at Holy Name. Billy's parents took her in willingly, they had waited so long to have Billy, a sibling was clearly out of the question and Loretta loved having a surrogate daughter to spoil. Gus assumed the Brooks' had also probably taken pity on her, a father who worked all the time and a mother who moved from Jekyll to Hyde fast enough to give anyone whiplash.

"Gus, you still with us?" Flack asked, studying her intently as she stared more through than at the murder board.

Billy, having a better idea of the memories washing over her, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and announced it was time for drinks.

"It isn't even noon on a weekday!" Flack exclaimed.

"And that is why the good lord invented Bloody Mary's," he said, giving Gus a look which she knew meant he was wondering how much Flack knew about her parents.

"What's happening in there?" Flack asked, tapping her on the forehead.

Gus shrugged, "just thinking. Thinking we got squat." He looked down at her, clearly not believing this was all but not pressing, for which she was grateful. "I don't know why I thought this would be easy," she said as they stared at the board. Frustration was clear in her voice and in her expression, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Flack moved behind her, letting her lean back into him, wrapping his arms around her. "Just talk through it, what do you remember?" Gus took deep breath and closed her eyes. She had been thinking about the time leading up to her parents' death since she found that stupid box in the basement, but she also has spent a lot of time trying to ignore unpleasant memories. "It's fine, just talk it out, like we tell people all the time, little details can matter a lot." Flack thought back to the Sam Harris case, trying to get the truth out of him, or what Flack thought was the truth.

"My dad was stressed out, not that he would really show it, he didn't retire that from the Marines."

"No wonder you can read Mac so well," Flack tried to joke pulling her even closer to him.

She gave the briefest of smiles before continuing, "he was working a lot, even for him. He started coming home less and less, to shower and change, I would go days without seeing him. He was working a case, he didn't want me to see it, I remember him putting a lock on the guest bedroom door. I used to grill him about his cases all the time, and he would answer nearly all my questions. My mother thought it was distasteful, she hated it. But something must have been awful about this one."

Gus shuddered, her father had shown her a lot of his work, things she probably shouldn't have seen at such a young age but that combined with the knowledge of what she had seen on the job, Gus could only imagine what atrocities her father had hidden in the guest room. She shook it off, and Flack, who despite wanting nothing more than to comfort her, knew she did her best thinking while moving.

"My mother," she paused stopping to look at him, "there's some crap you don't know about my mother, Don."

"Gus, my mother abandoned me and my younger sister when I was ten because she wanted to run off with my dad's partner who didn't want kids and my brother was old enough to take care of himself. My father pretty much tuned out then except to yell at us, leaving my grieving widow of a grandmother to raise us practically by herself, so hit me with your best shot, okay?"

Gus cleared her throat, "well then. My mother had bi-polar disorder, she was manic-depressive. When she was up she was bubbly, energetic, involved, loving, artistic, she could light up a room. When she was down, she wouldn't leave the bed for days, she wouldn't let anyone see her, she could get violent and mean and she would drink and it would make things worse. It wasn't pretty." Flack tried to move in, but Gus waved him away, "please, just let me. I remember she was up right after Thanksgiving, which was surprising because my father wasn't there, we had dinner here, I remember..." Gus paused for a minute, chewing on her lip. "She went hog-wild decorating the house, with live garland and trees and magnolia leaves and it was out of control. She was up for a week maybe more, trying to get everything perfect. I remember my father coming home and barely even noticing, he was carrying boxes of files, and mama, she just lost it. I can't believe the neighbors didn't call the police, except daddy was the police. She took to bed after that, until a couple of days before my holiday break, and then she was back at it, trying to create the perfect Christmas. Maybe she was just trying to get daddy to focus on us again or something other than the case or maybe she was just crazy, I don't know." Gus stopped, her eyes closed, shaking her head.

Flack walked towards her, wrapping her in his arms despite her first instinct to struggle and held her. He caught sight of Billy watching them from the door way, a tray of drinks in his hands. The two men's eyes met and Billy gave Flack a wistful smile, and a nod of approval.

"Not crazy, darling, remember around here we call it eccentric," Billy started.

"And invite it up to the porch for a drink, I know, Tibs," Gus said, wiggling out from Flack's arms and going to get a drink, "call me eccentric."

"You are not one bit like your mama, sugar, except maybe that you do light up a room," Billy said, giving her arm a squeeze. "Well, are we supposed to be sharing all our deep family secrets now or just the ones about this case?"

"Joggers!" Gus remarked suddenly after taking a long drink. Both men looked at her. "I remember sneaking a look at a file about female joggers, older women, strangled, found out by the bayous."

"Alright, that's a start," Flack coached, "anything else?"

"The boxes, the night my parents had the huge fight, they were mostly binders, so other open cases, prostitutes maybe? I didn't get that good of a look, mama was too busy throwing them around, but I remember he had files...it seemed weird, they weren't murder books, they looked kind of like the charts we had in staff psych or-" her eyes got wide, "or like our personnel files."

"Shit!" Billy and Flack swore at the same time getting what Gus was alluding to. "Your father thought a cop was involved in at least one of these cases," Flack said with a sigh, rubbing his neck.

"Or all of them, I remember him taking me aside, late that night, mama had already stormed off to bed. He apologized for working so much, but that he was trying to stop a bad man from doing very bad things and he was trying to protect me. I remember him giving me his usual safety lecture, but he seemed really shaky this time. I just thought it was because of mama freaking out, what if it was more?"

They all went back to the sticky notes Gus had scribbled on, the slips of paper starting to make more sense as she fleshed things out and a timeline started to appear. "Now this, this is something we can work with," Flack said, studying the board.

"Let's see if we can add to it with this," Billy said, pulling the lid off the tub. He sorted through a stack, "Gus are you sure you want to see this?" he said, paling slightly. Flack moved over to see what Billy was looking at, what had emerged from the stuck together stacks of paper.

"Sunshine, it's the crime scene photos, from both scenes."

"Put them up," Gus said, looking determined, "it isn't like I can erase the memory of my mama lying dead in our kitchen anyway."

Billy hung the photographs with Flack's help, Gus staring at them and sucking down her drink.

* * *

**Chapter 37: Serial**

Gus shivered slightly as she took in the kitchen of her childhood, the pristine white marred with her mother's blood, the streaks where Gus had bounded in through the backdoor, sliding in the puddle emanating from her mother's body. The tread from her saddle-oxfords leaving a trail as she ran through the house looking for her father. Her eyes shot over to his crime scene photographs, found dead in the projects outside the quarter, a bullet between his eyes. At first the NOPD thought drug dealers where just trying to make a point about how they felt about cops next to their turf.

"Are you sure?" Billy asked, looking back at her. Gus just nodded, unable to do anything but finish her drink, Flack taking her empty glass and tucking her hair behind her ear. She gave him a small smile, she wasn't sure, but if this is what it took to banish the last of her demons, than she would face whatever horrors she had to.

Flack reappeared with a glass of water and a laptop in hand. "Mr. Newspaper may not have given you much, but I'm betting the internet might have something to say," he said, handing Gus the glass of water before plopping in an armchair with the laptop.

"Flack, I've looked, like Paul said, there were over 400 murders that year, the paper didn't have room to cover them all. I have worked on this for over two months now!" Gus protested.

"By yourself, darling, and where had you gotten? Crazy rambles on sticky notes and a ball of mush you picked to hell?" Billy pointed out, waving around the pieces of paper he had restored.

"Don't rub in your handiwork, Billy," Gus shot back.

"I'm just saying, if you would let people in every once in a damn blue moon, things might get done."

Flack cleared his throat, bemused despite the heaviness in the room. "Listen to your friend, sunshine."

"Fine, I give up, yes, I obviously need y'alls help and then some, damn it," Gus growled, making a chart on the board, trying to not look directly into her parent's dead eyes.

"Thank god for rich, white women," Flack exclaimed a bit later. Billy and Gus both turned to stare at them, as they had gone through the documents Billy had salvaged from the tub.

"Something you want to tell me, blue eyes?" Gus dripped as Billy cut in, "she isn't rich, sugar, barely a trust fund, I tell you."

"Very funny, both of you," Flack shot back, "and that is one more than I got, by the way. But I think I found something. Apparently between 1986 and 1990, there were five women between 52 and 68 years of age that went disappearing while jogging and were later found strangled to death, mutilated, in swamps and bayous between here and Baton however the hell you say that R word. As far as I can tell, they never had any real leads and the cases remain unsolved."

"I am not letting you jog alone anymore," Billy said, patting Gus on the back.

"It is too damn hot here to run outdoors anyway, Billy," Gus said, adding information to the board. "What about hookers?" she said, peeling a note off the board.

"What about them?" Flack asked.

Gus gave a cry of frustration, "I don't know, I don't remember why I wrote this in the first place."

"New Orleans is chock full of them and they get murdered all the time, but it isn't like the newspaper is going to write about it," Billy pointed out.

"Yeah, but what about cops being involved with prostitutes?" Gus suggested, while Flack was already typing away.

Flack made a strangled noise, "what kinda half-assed operation are you running down here?" he exclaimed, ignoring the glares he received. "Apparently it was pretty normal for officers to have a broken moral compass. Some idiot chief got rid of internal affairs in 1994 and it wasn't brought back until 2002. I mean, I hate the rat squad as much as the next cop, but it is a necessary evil. Jesus, gambling operations, prostitution rings, working private security details on the clock, robberies, shake downs, and these guys all had badges!" Flack shook his head in disbelief. "Banana Freaking Republic."

"Flack," Gus growled in warning stomping over to his chair.

"Broussard?" Flack replied, looking up with smirk.

She planted her hands on her hips and looked ready to start swinging. "Stop kicking my damn dog and help me figure out who killed my daddy, who was a good cop!"

Billy intervened, "alright, children, we get it, you are both right, lots of corrupt cops in a wonderful city. Now how about I fix us some lunch?"

"I could eat," Flack said, going back to his searching.

Gus glared at him one more time before picking up her buzzing phone. "Fine," she said to Billy before answering.

"Mr. Newspaper Man says he pulled some clips and is sending them over now, he also says I can get a pass to the archives but that I better like spooling microfiche."

"Got it," Flack said, turning the laptop towards her.

"How did you get into my email?" Gus protested.

Flack gave her a grin, "let's just say Adam would be saddened by your lack of password strength. Though I am flattered."

"Get over yourself and let me see," Gus said, taking the laptop from him.

"Crap!" she cried in frustration after reading through everything "None of this says a damn thing about the cases he was working, the newspaper all but shoves it off on some drug dealer who wanted to teach the NOPD a lesson and just blabs on about the crime rate being the highest in the nation. Nobody should go out this way, but definitely not a cop! Apparently their murders didn't fit in with the cheer of the season and he was the fourth cop killed in the line of duty that year, who cares that some scumbag also killed his wife and left his daughter orphaned."

"And that is enough for you for now. Come on and eat lunch," Billy exclaimed, shutting the laptop on her and striding back towards the kitchen.

Gus looked at Flack for help. "Don't look at me with doe eyes, sunshine, this is why we don't work cases we are personally involved in." Gus started to open her mouth but Flack's glare stopped her short. "My point, exactly, can we go eat, I'm hungry?" he put a hand out to help her up off the floor.

"When are you not hungry?" she teased as he pulled her up and to him.

He looked at her with a devilish grin, "I can think of a few times," he said, leading her out of the room.

"You were cute all gangly," Flack said, looking through the articles about her parents' funeral a bit later. He was at a loss about what to say, hating feeling out of sorts and not in control.

"I was a late bloomer, and in mourning, Don!" Gus said, flushing from her spot beside him on the porch swing. Billy had kicked them out of the living room for the afternoon for their own good, but they remained working despite his protests.

She pushed the swing with one foot, the other tucked underneath her, making notes on the pad in her lap. "I know this can't be how you envisioned using vacation time, I really do appreciate it," she said, setting her pen down and reaching for his hand.

He entwined his fingers with hers, "no, it isn't, but this is important to you, so it is important to me. Partners, right?" he said, with a squeeze. "Also, I think I figured out what your father was trying to hide from you."

Gus withdrew her hand, leaning over to see what was on the screen. "Between 1990 and 1992, seven teenage girls between the ages of 13 and 15...missing...raped...found strangled...mutilated bodies dumped naked in wetland areas over southeast Louisiana...several suspects...including St. Charles Parish sheriff...never arrested...lack of evidence...committed suicide in 2004." Gus slumped back, "so who knows if they were connected? Another dead-end."

"Gus, stand back for a second. If you were looking at this case in New York, what would you notice?"

"The MO is the same, rape and strangulation, mutilation, naked body dumps in similar areas that corrode evidence very quickly. The victimology changes, but it starts with older women who were probably caught off guard and moved to young teenagers who he probably lured somehow," Gus said, thinking aloud.

"Which says what?" Flack pressed on, knowing she was there but just had to say it.

"Organized serial killer." She thought for a minute, "so my father figures out these cases are connected, and something about prostitutes, and he knows there is a serial killer active in the area, but with 400 murders that year already, the city doesn't need the press or maybe just doesn't care. But why did he bring home NOPD personnel files if a suspect was a St. Charles sheriff?"

Flack thought for a minute, thinking about the area west of town that he flew into and that Gus had driven him through. It wasn't exactly the same, but he had seen it happen time and time again, hell even Danny was contemplating it. "What if he started out as NOPD but wanted to make more money or-"

"Had a family and wanted to be out of the city in a safer position? He also would know every swamp and bayou between here and Lafourche!" Gus made a face, "it makes sense, but man that is sick. Hey sweetie what did you do today? Oh, took the kids to school, had coffee with the PTA, what about you? Just abducted, raped and strangled a girl our daughter's age before dumping her naked, mutilated body in the swamp, so glad we moved out to the country!" Flack couldn't help but laugh. "Yuck it up, another reason to never leave Manhattan!"

"The outer boroughs are hardly the country, Gus, not to mention there are plenty of serial killers in Manhattan," Flack replied, shaking his head.

Gus sighed, "I know. Still, you have to admit my place is pretty great."

"As that kid liked to remind me every damn day and let us not even talk about how he bitched and moaned when you kicked him out so the Messers could stay."

"I'll make it up to you, promise," she gave him a kiss, wishing the laptop and all the memories it contained was not between them.

"I'll hold you to that, sunshine," Flack shot back, thinking much the same thing.


	12. Closed Doors

**Chapter 38: Closed Doors**

Gus was up before dawn, slipping quietly out of the bed and house not wanting to wake Don or Billy, knowing they would both try to convince her to take it easy. She had been up all night, trying to remember why she had scrawled prostitutes on a sticky note and staring at the timeline. She had steadfastly ignored both men's protests to get some sleep until Flack all by threw her over his shoulder and dragged her upstairs around 3am. Mostly she had avoided sleep, knowing that even with Don wrapping his arms around her, physically reminding her that she was safe, she knew the nightmares would still be waiting on her. She had also been hoping for one of Mac's 'eureka' moments, but it hadn't come.

Gus backed her jeep out of the driveway, driving around aimlessly, waiting until she could go and pick up her pass for the archives at the paper. The city was quiet, New Orleans not an early town, especially in the early summer, and blanketed with fog that would burn off as soon as the hot sun finished rising. It leant a certain dreamy softness to the city, adding to the spell it cast on so many. Reminding Gus how beautifully decayed the city was. She hoped Stella would make a home here, be happy, find peace and maybe even love. Gus also hoped she could find the answers and peace she sought and could get to her true home, with her love, soon.

She pulled up to a curb after driving out along the river and back, not fully realizing why she had stopped until she looked up at the Victorian foursquare, now pained a mint green, and the years of memories came back. It was a lovely house, and looked like it had been well cared for. It had been too big for the three of them but siblings for Gus never came. She knew her father had gotten a lot of crap on the force for having his fancy uptown house, even if the houses surrounding it were far fancier. But the elder Gus Broussard had received the home as a gift from his parents after he retired from the Marines and had captured the heart of Marie Conrad; imagining it filled with grandchildren before they passed.

For years she had avoided driving up Octavia Street, not able to even look at the house where the course of her life was so altered. Gus hadn't kept track of it, remembering Claire bringing in a work crew to pack everything up, most of the contents being sold as they had belonged to her father's now deceased family. Gus' tiny dorm room at Sacred Heart barely fit her everyday belongings and even back then she had shut down and didn't want anything to do with the reminders of her past. Claire was still fairly transient, young and energetic, she had no use for antiques and New Orleans bric-à-brac. Very little remained of her childhood life, what she had kept with her through the years had been further diminished by Katrina, and even the remaining memories had been tainted by sadness and violence.

Gus didn't even realize how angry she was over this fact until the trio of children came bounding out of the front door, their harried mother herding them and their designer swim gear toward an SUV in the driveway, probably headed up toward Baton Rouge and the water park. Gus spied the private school stickers on the back glass as well as one of those hideous stick figure families and felt a growl rising in her chest. It broke free as she saw the smallest of the three plucking a bloom off the azalea bush and offer it to the mother, the mother's face going from rushed to glowing with love as she took it, tucking it behind her ear. Angry, frustrated tears followed the growl as the SUV pulled away, Gus leaning her head on her steering wheel, allowing herself to give in to being weak and broken.

* * *

She forced herself a modicum of composure when her phone started buzzing on the dash, she reached for it with half-blinded eyes, barking "Broussard," through what remained of her tears.

"Sunshine, where did you disappear to?" Flack's tone one of forced bemusement that Gus knew was covering concern.

"Hey, Don, I, um, went for a drive along the river, just needed to clear my head," she sniffed, knowing he could tell she was crying, that after all they had been through, she could hide nothing from him, Don Flack could read her damn soul.

Flack stood in the kitchen, rubbing his neck, raising his eyebrows at Billy who was making coffee. He shook his head as he gestured at the phone, both men worried when they woke and Gus was nowhere around, her jeep gone. "By the river, huh, you still there?"

Gus cleared her throat, "nah, I came back uptown, I'll be back in a bit, just was killing time before I can get into the archives." Despite her best efforts at composure, she still couldn't stop the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Mourning for the childhood cut short, for the childhood marred by her mother's mood swings and her father's employment. Grieving for how their deaths had hardened her heart, for how many opportunities she had wasted or run from because of the ghosts weighing her down, walling her up.

"Where are you now?" he pressed on, worried about how her words caught in her throat, thinking of the look in her eyes as he forced her into bed a couple of hours before.

"Octavia Street," she said, knowing it wouldn't mean anything to him, not knowing that Billy was listening in until she heard her friend swear and make her promise to not move.

"What's up with Octavia Street, Brooks?" Flack asked as Billy rushed them to his car.

Billy squealed the car out of the driveway, thankful for the lack of school traffic due to summer vacation. "It's the house she was forced to grow up in," he said, running the light on St. Charles and not caring about the red light camera flashing behind him.

Her jeep was empty when they pulled up behind it, fog still blanketing the oak lined street, people barely beginning to stir to head to the CBD or for a jog on the streetcar tracks before the humidity and heat became too oppressive. Both men looked at each other, swearing as they jumped out, wondering where she had disappeared to.

Flack found her, an open side gate leading the way, sitting on the ground, back against the siding of the house, next to the backdoor. Curled with her arms over the head lying on her knees, sobs shaking her frame. "Gussie," he said, dropping beside her, hoping the current owners of the house didn't shoot them for trespassing but more worried about Gus' current mental state. She melted into the arm he wrapped around her, silently sobbing as he moved in to cradle her.

Billy came around the side of the house, seeing them and turning back around, closing the gate softly behind him, knowing she hadn't been back to this house since the day the police summoned his parents to the crime scene, Gus arriving at his house wrapped in his father's coat and uncharacteristically silent, the light gone from her eyes, his mother making a shaky phone call to Gus' Aunt Claire, who hopped the first plane from Chicago.

Flack waited it out, not saying anything until Gus finally unwrapped herself from the sobbing ball she had formed. Forcing herself to not be beaten by her past, she jumped out of his arms and shook herself off, standing next to the door that represented her fractured past. "Maybe some doors are better left closed," she said, steeling herself.

"Maybe, maybe not, Gus, it is your call though," Flack replied, looking around, "but maybe you can figure it out back in your jeep before we have to misuse our badges?"

Gu shrugged, "they're gone for the day, saw them leave before you called."

Flack nodded, "what do you want to do, Gus?"

"I don't know, Don, I wish I did. All I know is it seems so unfair, all of it. Not just them getting killed, but everything that happened before that and after and what if I figure out who killed them and it still doesn't change anything? What if I'll never be happy? What if I end up just as crazy as her and drive anyone that loves me away and no wonder I can't be normal, look at what I have as an example, I mean, what kind of wife and mother would I make? How much do you regret coming down here?"

Flack shook his head, trying to hide his smile, knowing it was no time for the sarcasm that filled his head. How many times he wondered what kind of husband or father he would be, if he would find someone who would be loyal and faithful, if he could show unconditional love, hell if he would show any emotion to his future children... "could I answer your ridiculous questions somewhere other than a stranger's backyard?"

"They aren't ridic-" Gus broke off, turning from staring at the door to look at him finally, seeing the smirk on his face but the concern in his eyes. "Fine, so they are a little ridiculous, but that doesn't make them any less real to me!" She turned back to the door, giving it one last narrowed glare, determined that she would leave all of this behind her in New Orleans.

Billy's car was gone, a text informing them that he had decided to make himself scarce before attracting attention from the private security firm that patrolled the neighborhood. "Breakfast?" Gus asked as they climbed into her jeep.

Flack nodded, "when do I ever turn down food?"

This brought a smile finally to Gus' clouded face, "good point," she said, pointing them towards one of the hole in the wall breakfast joints littering neighborhoods across the city.

* * *

Tucked into pancakes and bacon, Flack glanced at Gus across the booth from him. "You really worry about that stuff you said back there?"

Gus looked up at him, chewing pensively before answering, "yeah, I do, Don. I mean, I guess I didn't always, I just assumed I wouldn't ever be with anyone and so I wouldn't have to worry about being happy or a good wife or mother. Why do you think I pushed so hard against letting you in?"

"So what changed?" he asked, flashing a smile at her, eyebrows quickly raised and lowered as he stole a piece of her bacon.

"Some smug homicide detective, about 6'2", ridiculous blue eyes, dimples that he thinks mean he can do whatever he wants including steal my freaking heart and bacon," she shot back, stabbing at the piece of pork in question, pulling it back towards her. "One or the other, Flack!" she teased.

"I can order more bacon, sunshine," he said, the dimples she had just mentioned on full display before turning serious again. "You think I don't worry about those things too?"

Gus gave a small bark, "great, so you worry I am crazy and incapable of taking care of myself let alone anyone else and that it is all but guaranteed that I going to mess up anything good in my life? Awesome!"

Flack closed his eyes briefly, with a small shake of his head before getting up and moving around to her side of the booth. "Shove over," he said, nudging her toward the wall and throwing his arm over the back of the booth.

"I meant I worry about those kind of things about me and don't you dare say anything about me making a good wife or mother, Broussard or I swear ta' god I will steal every piece of bacon in your future. But our past doesn't get to define who we are, Gus, unless we let it. So you wanna keep at this case, I am there. You wanna walk away and let it stay here, I will have us on the first plane back to New York. It is your call, and I am here to support you either way. And no, you aren't normal, but I wouldn't love you so damn much if you were, but you aren't crazy, either. We aren't our parents and we ain't gonna suddenly turn into them either, so we both gotta let that go." He wrapped his arm around her, his emotions making his accent more pronounced, though it didn't sound out-of-place at all in this section of the city. "So what is it going to be, Broussard?" he said, kissing an errant streak of syrup off her, more bacon suddenly the last thing on his mind.

* * *

**Chapter 39: Cone of Uncertainty**

"You sure?" Flack asked as they pulled up to the newspaper building.

"Not in the least bit, Flack, but I gotta try," she said, turning off the ignition and heading inside, shocked at the buzz of activity this early in the morning in New Orleans.

"You brought another cop." Paul Devon said, coming up to them a few minutes later, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, my partner, Don Flack," Gus replied, introducing the two men.

Paul looked Flack over carefully, "NO or NYPD?" he asked, wondering exactly what kind of partners the two of them were.

"New York, just here to help out however I can," Flack replied, giving the other man a good once over of his own.

Paul nodded, having a clearer picture of their partnership. "I guess I can see why you are hung up on this, Miss...Detective Broussard, and as I said on the phone, there really wasn't much to pull, but have at it. I am a little busy between my normal workload and Bonnie stirring everyone up. Nine days into the season and already on our second named system, going to be one hell of a hurricane season. Here are your passes, take the service elevator, it is the only one that goes down to the basement."

He shoved the laminated visitor passes as them and disappeared into the chaos of the newsroom, leaving Flack to grimace, "you wanna explain who Bonnie is and why she has everyone stirred up, sunshine?"

Gus glanced over Flack's shoulder at the television set mounted in the lobby. "Just a little something happening over the Bahamas, Flack, nothing to worry about," she said, trying to ignore the tracking line that headed straight into New Orleans, she had bigger fish to fry than some stupid weather disturbance. Flack followed her glance to the TV, willing to take her word for it, but not liking the unease he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"Remind me to never work Vice," Flack said a few hours later as they scrolled through endless rolls of microfiche in the windowless basement. An entire day spent researching prostitutes in Southern Louisiana had left him feeling exhausted and downcast, not even counting the emotional start to their day.

"You put your time in patrol and Narcotics, not to mention your last name is Flack, Don, I don't think you will ever have to work Vice unless you want to," Gus pointed out, flipping to a clean page in her legal pad.

"I don't. There are a depressing amount of articles on prostitutes in this rag," he sighed.

"Port city, Flack comes with the territory, a city founded on riverboat gamblers and casket girls, nobody else wanted to settle here," Gus shrugged, having grown up listening to the tales of the lawless frontier that was New Orleans' earliest origins.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't look like it has changed much," he said, throwing his pen down in frustration, "it also doesn't help that four NOPD officers were questioned or suspects for murder in 1992. Truby should have joined down here, he would probably be Chief of Ds."

The bitterness was clear in Flack's voice, enough to cause Gus' heart to clutch. He didn't talk about Truby, hadn't since the Dobson trial years ago. "On that cheery note, maybe we need to take a break, but for the record, my father was a good cop!" Gus protested.

"I'm not saying he wasn't. As for that break, hold up a minute, I think I may have something," Flack scrolled through the article roll he was looking at. "When were those rich broad joggers found?"

"Between '86 and '90," Gus said, flipping through her notes, "strangled, mutilated, naked swamp dumps," she read with a look of distaste.

"Anything on how they were mutilated?" Flack asked, scanning a brief series of articles.

Gus flipped back and forth through her growing piles of notes, "nope, nothing on either the joggers of the teen girls. Articles just mention strangled and mutilated but not how. NOPD must have leaned on them to keep those details out."

"Well I got a spate of stories on prostitutes found naked in housing projects starting in '82 around town, all of them found naked and their throats slit. NOPD blamed it on turf wars, doesn't look like they did much investigating and I am not seeing anything on it after '86."

"Four year turf war with prostitutes getting their throat slit and that's it?" Gus asked, leaning over to look at his screen, "hold on, scroll back, stop!" she said as Flack reached a grainy picture of a crime scene photo in Treme. "Two unidentified detectives question residents next to where the body of Katherine Hall, a black drug addict who resided in the Lafitte Housing project long known for its drug dealers, pimps, and prostitutes, was found," Gus read out loud, "over the past 4 years, over eighteen known prostitutes have been found dead in housing projects around the city. Police believe they are part of a larger battle between local gangs and drug dealers."

"That's some fair and balanced reporting right there," Flack snarked.

"Not that, though that is awful, I agree, that unidentified detective, that's Malleville," she said jabbing her finger at the shorter of the two detectives in the photograph."

"Somehow I am guessing he might just be able to tell us who the other detective is, considering I am betting they were partners," Flack said, printing out the article.

Gus glanced up at the clock, nearing 3pm, "and if we hurry, we can get to him before he bags off for the day," Gus said, gathering their research and shoving it into her tote.

"Gus you missed 14 calls from Billy and he sent just as many texts talking about some cone of uncertainty," Flack said as she sped them towards the justice complex, "you care to translate?"

"Hold on," she said, flipping on the radio to a news station, where talk of an already active storm season was taking over the airwaves as the latest predictors on now Tropical Storm Bonnie came out from the weather service.

Flack looked at her with alarm, "should we, uh, be worried?"

"It is a Tropical Storm on the other side of Florida, people do this every June through November. Mostly they just want to make sure they get a couple of days off work and have enough beer to survive being hunkered down with their families," Gus replied, rolling her eyes.

"Hunkered down, huh?" Flack said, with a smirk, though he was pulling up information on hurricane preparedness on his own phone.

* * *

They pulled up and Gus looked like she was debating something. "What is it, sunshine?" Flack asked, knowing that furrow on her brow.

"I need you to not come with me," she said, uncertainly. He just raised his eyebrows. "I need you to do something else, see that FEMA trailer over there?" she pointed, Flack nodded. "Go in there, find a woman named Chanda, she will probably already know who you are. She works for the Police and Justice Foundation, see if she has access to personnel files and get her to give us everything she can on Malleville and if there is anything on that Sheriff, did you get his name?"

"Yeah, Grant, Victor Lee Grant. And she is just going to cough up personnel files to some NYPD detective that comes walking in off the street?"

"Not some NYPD detective, Flack, my NYPD detective. Use those baby blues, you won't have a problem and I will meet you there," Gus shot back, giving him a deep kiss before shooing him in the direction of the trailer before she mounted the granite steps to the complex, trying to ignore the trepidation filling her body.

Gus brushed past Malleville's secretary, not even glancing back as the woman called after her. "Detective Broussard, still here, I see. I take you have decided to take me up on my offer," Malleville smiled from behind his desk.

"Actually, I haven't, I realized I belong in New York, but I am still going to solve my parents' murder, with or without your help."

"I see, and how exactly can I help you if you aren't willing to help me?" Malleville said, straightening up in his chair and leaning forward, that reptilian smile plastered on his face.

Gus fought down a growl, "I helped the new mayor find an amazing hire to head up the new crime lab, which is a damn sight better than you could ever hope for. Stella could help you with your precious numbers with a hand tied behind her back. Now, tell me who is the other detective standing beside you in this photograph?" She put the article in front of him, stabbing it to the desk with her finger.

His eyes flicked over the caption and to the headline, the smallest flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he gave a slight shrug, "that was a long time ago, I had just gotten my shield."

"And you are telling me you don't remember who your partner was when you first got your shield? He doesn't look very old in this photo either, imagine you two were a thick as thieves, two young bucks making a name in homicide at the same time. Probably wanted better cases than some poor, black, drug addict hookers getting themselves kilt in the PJs." Gus removed her finger, crossing her arms over her chest, staring Malleville down, shoving her fears aside, mainly because he had no hold over her and she knew Stella could hold her own against a snake like this.

"Look here young lady, as a homicide detective, I would think you would know you don't get to cherry pick your cases, you take what comes your way and you investigate."

"To the best of your abilities, every time, every case, no matter who the victim was or what they did. I am quite aware. How long were you in homicide, sir?" Gus said, wanting to see how his story matched with the personnel file she hoped Flack was getting.

"Too damn long," Malleville shot back, realizing she was't letting go until she got a concrete answer, "almost twenty years, seen more dead bodies than soldiers, it feels like."

Gus looked at him, incredulous, "and in your twenty years, it never occurred to you that maybe those eighteen prostitutes may have been killed by someone other than some drug king pin? That maybe-" she broke off, not ready to tip her hand yet. "Look, I know you worked with my father, and you said he was a good detective, so as a favor to him, and to me as his daughter, tell me who this other detective is so we can both go home and see what track this bitch Bonnie is deciding to take, alright?"

"His name was Detective Grant." Malleville added nothing else, his expression remaining passive.

Gus cleared her throat, her theory starting to unfold before her. "You said his name 'was', sir, I take it he passed?"

"2004, heart attack," Malleville said, "left a wife and kids up the river."

"Heart attack, that's a shame," Gus replied, knowing Malleville was lying through his stupid veneered teeth. "Well, thanks for your help, sir."

Malleville finally stood, "no problem, as a favor to your father. I don't know what these dead hookers have to do with his murder though, he didn't even come on to homicide until '88," he gestured to the article, a look of pure disdain on his face, "there were plenty of new dead hookers to worry about by then."

Gus narrowed her eyes briefly before pasting a smile on her face, "thanks for all your help, sir, stay safe out there." She was gone in a flash, leaving the article behind on his desk as a reminder.

"How did it go?" Flack asked Gus as she came up to the trailer he was waiting outside of, the heat and humidity plastering his clothing to him.

"I'll tell you when we get home," she said, digging a bottle of water out of her bag and tossing it to him, "you see Chanda?" Flack nodded. "And?" she asked, after he drained the bottle.

He pointed to the paper bag at his feet, "You were right, it was nothing, though I do have to say, my cheeks are going to hurt for a while from her pinching," he said with a grin.

"Oh yeah, which set?" Gus had quipped, leading them back to the jeep.

"Very funny. She says to stop by before I steal you back to New York. We need to talk about that again, Gus?"

"No, Don, we do not, she was just teasing," Gus said, before pointing them towards home. She didn't say much on the journey back except to curse at traffic, her horn blaring at the slightest infraction.

Flack shook his head, glad she had given up on driving in the city, she would have had a coronary there by now.

She locked both men out of the living room, ordering them to make sure they had enough supplies. Flack learned this was for the approaching tropical storm and mainly meant booze, gas and toilet paper. "So like a blizzard?" he quipped, as Billy led them through the grocery store.

"I suppose, though I wouldn't know. Lord, how do you deal with all that cold?" Billy asked, shaking his head and throwing another bottle of wine in the cart, consulting his list.

"How do you deal with all this heat and then the a/c blasting everywhere inside, it is like going through all nine circles of hell at once."

Billy scratched through the list with practice and ease, before giving Flack a once over, "hot and well-read, why is it Augusta hasn't married you yet?"

Flack shrugged, "ain't for lack of trying."

"Oh, I am well aware, but I have given her my piece of mind on that several times. For a smart girl she sure is stupid. Luckily she is also pretty and I have a feeling you may have finally figured out to not let her go so easy."

Flack snorted, "easy, what part of any of this do you figure has been easy, Brooks?"

"I am not saying it has been easy, but that is life, sugar. I did, however, expect you to show up last time Gussie came down here. It was half the reason I didn't ship her cute ass back to New York right away."

Flack gave a small growl, ignoring the fact that there were blocking the very popular liquor aisle, "so why were you so supportive this time?"

Billy gave him a look that said he knew more than he was willing to share in public, "let's just say I had a nice long chat with her uncle, felt like she could use a little break." Billy realized the logjam they were causing and wheeled the cart toward the checkout, "how about you put those NYPD muscles to use and grab us a couple of propane tanks, just in case."

Flack complied, wondering just in case of what and feeling Brooks was not finished berating him yet.

* * *

**Chapter 40: Revelations**

The men arrived back at the house and were unloading the car when Gus coming out to greet them, having changed into far more casual clothes than those she confronted Malleville in. "Good Lord, Tibs, it is a itty bitty tropical storm, did you buy out the entire grocery?"

Flack snickered at her accent and colloquialisms, "you do know the guys are going to give you crap if you keep talking like that when you get back home, right?"

Gus rolled her eyes, "I got rid of it before, mostly, I can do it again."

"Mostly," he kept snickering.

"How about you use those muscles of yours and haul those propane tanks up to the side porch?" Gus shot back, both her and Billy making for inside, "and then meet us in the living room!"

"Damn propane tanks," Flack grumbled before grabbing a tank in each hand, unaware both Billy and Gus were ogling him from the window.

"Marry him or I will," Billy said, fanning himself.

"Yeah because the third time is the charm? I have turned him down twice, why on earth would he ask again?"

"I already told you to just ask him-" Billy cut off as Flack squeezed through the gap in the mostly closed pocket doors.

"So how many people are planning on, what was it, 'hunkering down' here?" he asked, entering the room and wondering why Gus and Billy were both looking flushed.

"Just us," Billy replied, "and we won't need to hunker down much, unless one of the oaks goes, but I think they have checked them all. Nothing like the first real storm of the season to keep you on your toes. Now what have you been up to in here, sugar?" Billy asked turning to Gus who flipped the murder board back around and started explaining her theory.

"Let me get this straight, you think Grant was a serial killer and Malleville knew Grant was a serial killer and helped him cover it up and at the very least tipped Grant off that your father was on to him if didn't outright help to kill your parents? Sunshine, I love you, but maybe you spent a little too much time with the wackadoos because you are sounding a couple of nuggets short of a happy meal." Flack stood in front of the reorganized murder board gaping at it.

"I hate to argue with you, McDreamy, but I can see what she is getting at," Billy said, making a few notes of his own on the board. He may have just been a desk jockey, but he had picked up plenty of knowledge between SWAT and his father being a judge.

Flack flipped through the copies from the personnel files, though much of Malleville' had been above Chanda's pay grade. "Fine, I will give you that Malleville and Grant more than knew each other. Looks like they grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, graduated the academy the same time and got their shields at the same time."

"So they were practically brothers, right?"

"Yeah, but it isn't like I would go out and help Messer commit or cover up a murder, Gus!" Flack argued.

Gus made a noise of frustration, "you haven't met him, Don, there is something about him, like he could totally sit around with his buddy Grant on weekend and make lampshades out of..." her eyes grew wide, her skin loosing its color. "Flack, let me see those articles from the prostitutes and Tibs, get out the photos from my mama's scene from wherever you hid them." Flack complied, quickly, but moved a chair over for her to sit in while Billy slunk off guiltily.

"I just didn't think you should keep looking at them, darling," he said, returning with an envelope as Gus flipped through the articles.

"Here and here!" she said, circling a couple of articles and getting shakily up to tack them to the board.

"Pieces of skin found removed from their bodies, believed to be markings of ownership or affiliation," Flack said reading where she had circled, "Okay, pimps like to mark their merchandise, it might be sick, but it isn't anything new."

"Mutilation, that is the common thread, but we focused on the fact that the articles about the joggers and teens didn't say how, we assumed it was probably their throats being slit. Like my mother," Gus said, putting up a photograph, though she was able to separate herself from it somewhat now that she focused on something else.

Both men looked at her, wondering where she was going with this and if she would get there before she fainted. They stood on either side of her, locking eyes above her head as she flipped through the stack of water-stained photographs from the envelope.

"Here, I guarandamntee my mother did not have any tattoo or pimp markings, she abhorred my father's Marines tats."

"I swear she tried to haunt the artist that gave you yours," Billy quipped with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Gus shot back, before pointing at a spot in a tattered photograph, "so, anyone else notice the hunk of skin missing from my mama's shoulder?" Billy and Flack both cocked their heads, studying the photograph, grimacing and nodding at the same time. "Good, now that that's settled, I think I am going to go throw up now," she said, rushing from the room and running for the stairs.

* * *

Both men tried to follow after her, scuffling slightly as they reached the pocket doors that were seemingly stuck, swollen in the humidity. "I've got this, Brooks," Flack growled, pushing the doors open with brute force.

"Girl, you better not run from him again," Billy gaped after him, fanning himself once again.

"Sunshine?" Flack asked, knocking on the slightly ajar door to the bathroom in the room were sharing.

"I'm fine," came Gus' muffled reply, from where she leaned over the toilet bowl, her head perched on her hands.

Flack wet a wash cloth, filled a glass with water and grabbed a hair tie off the counter in one fail swoop. "You aren't, but you shouldn't be," he said, setting the glass of water on the tank so he could pull back her hair and set the cloth on her neck.

"Thanks," she said meekly, reaching for the water and draining the glass. "Do I even want to know how you got so good at holding a girl's hair back?"

Flack kissed the top of her head, refilling her water-glass. "I know you've met my sister, it took her a few years to learn to hold her liquor before she learned to hold it a little too well." He attempted to perch his tall frame on the edge of the tub, not wanting to leave her alone.

"I am a jerk, how is she doing? What about Grams and the rest of the clan?" Gus asked, draining a second glass of water and praying it stayed down as she carefully got up and used the cloth to wipe off her face before brushing her teeth.

Flack couldn't help but smile up at her, "Gus, really?" The look she gave him said she was genuine. "Fine, Sam still can't hold a job to save her life, pops still complains about everything, Grams still does too much, Bobby's been dating a girl pretty serious, pre-school teacher. But you aren't a jerk, it's sweet of you to ask, it ain't like I am going over there every Sunday to catch up. Besides, you are kind of dealing with your own family drama now." He got up from the edge of the tub, stretching.

"Which is why I prefer to talk about your alive family drama," Gus replied, or at least that is what Flack though she said while brushing her teeth. She gave a final rinse of her mouth and the sink, wiping off even the tiniest of droplets of water off the counter and mirror.

Flack knew her anxiety was peaking, had seen her do the same thing with their desks, watched her categorize and alphabetized every piece of media in her apartment and once she even color coded his sock and underwear drawer. "Gus, stop, take a deep breath before you turn into Adam on me. I mean he is a great guy and everything, but I don't want sleep next to him, alright?"

Gus nodded, "I know, I just need a second. That bastard cut off my mother's skin, Don. She may have been crazy, she may have been mean, but that was only when she couldn't deal, she was still my mother and I loved her and he-" her breath and words caught in her throat, her face a mask of anguish.

He had her in his arms in an instant, catching her as she wavered, letting her tears soak his shirt for the second time that day, the sobs this time of grief, not anger. Flack half-carried her out of the bathroom settling her up on the canopy bed. "You need a break, Gus, just rest up and I'll check on you later, okay?"

She nodded, complying as he pulled back the covers on the bed, slipping between them, emotionally exhausted. "Yeah, I know. Thank you, Don."

"It's nothing," he paused, "because I love you that damn much, Augusta Broussard, I hope you know that."

"I'm starting to get the picture," she replied with a wan smile, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Good, because you might need to call off Brooks soon," Flack replied when he broke away, knowing she needed rest more than where the kiss was headed.

"He's all bark and no bite, Flack, don't worry," she said with a slight laugh, settling back in, looking worn.

"I'm not," he shot back, dimples on display, "now rest up, sunshine."

"Damn if I don't think she could be right," Billy remarked as Flack rejoined him in front of the murder board.

"Sick bastard," Flack said, taking down the non crime-scene photograph of Gus' mother. Flack recalled photographs he had seen at both Mac and Gus' places of Claire, realizing that all three women similarities in hair color and facial structure. Though Gus' eyes were greener, something Flack realized came from her father's swamp roots, as did her ability to go tan easily in the sun, unlike her much fairer skinned mother and aunt, though it was clear where her smattering of freckles came from.

"Gus isn't crazy like her, you know," Billy said, gesturing to the photo Flack was still holding, "and Marie wasn't even like that all the time, she just wouldn't do what the doctor's told her to. But when she was, woo boy, I am not surprised Gus has a hard time believing anyone could love her, that she can just sit back and be happy. And that was before all this mess or Spencer or Gage or Katrina or any of the rest of it happened." He stopped for a moment, "maybe the Augusta is right, maybe she is cursed. I'm joking, detective, don't look at me like that."

"I want to make her happy, even though I know I was an asshole before I left, I never stopped loving her, even with everything," Flack replied, tacking the photograph back up to the board.

"You may want to tell little miss that," Billy suggested.

Flack shrugged, "I've tried. I have, I just don't know if it she believes me."

"She's going back to New York with you, isn't she? Keep showing her, keep trying," Billy gave Flack a sidelong glance, "and if she asks you to marry her, you better say yes."

"Ain't gonna happen, Brooks," Flack shot back, "though I never said I was done asking her." He gave Billy one of his trademark grins, "now what are we going to do about this mess so I can take her back home?"

* * *

The men worked for hours, stopping briefly for dinner, letting Gus sleep upstairs.

"The problem is, we don't know Malleville, we don't know how much he did or didn't have to do with all of this and it isn't like he is just going to confess!" Flack said, throwing down a marker in anger.

Billy shook his head, "and Grant is dead. Though I think it is pretty telling he committed suicide right after the FBI started looking into the murder of those poor little girls."

Flack nodded his head absently, "I wonder how much the wife knows?"

"We won't know until we ask her," Gus said from behind them, causing them both to jump. "'Fraidy cats! Billy, I am not shocked, but Flack, really?" she teased.

"Shut it, Broussard," Flack said, wrapping his arm around her as she came up beside him. "You have a good nap?"

"Just what a girl needed after puking her guts out," she said, her face grim, "so what did y'all figure out?"

Flack dropped his arm from her waist, moving back to the board to their latest timeline. "That maybe you don't need to be wearing a tinfoil hat."

"It all fits, at least with Grant. Malleville, it is harder to figure out, but then you are the only one of us that has met the man," Billy pointed out.

"He's a snake, he's involved," Gus replied with a resolve both men found hard to argue with.

Flack gestured to the victims linked on the board, "so in all your fancy cold case sorting, you recall anything about any of these vics?"

Gus studied the board carefully, "I don't know, maybe? There were a lot of cases and I was more focused on getting the towers of boxes sorted than looking for a serial killer. But there is one way to find out," she said, going over to her laptop and pulling up her spreadsheet.

"Augusta Broussard, you bad girl, did you keep a copy of your work with NOPD? Thought you said I wasn't going to have to start calling you Felony Melanie again," Billy said, shaking his head with a smile.

Flack just cocked his head at her, he wasn't about to judge, but Billy was right, this wasn't like Gus.

"Intellectual property, you two, and I asked, Colston was fine with it. Never hurts to build your portfolio," she said, sitting down with the file. "We need Adam and his toys for this, seriously," she said a bit later, sounding dejected.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that agencies don't play well together across county lines here," Flack said, pointing at the map where the bodies had been found.

"Parishes," Billy and Gus corrected at the same time.

Flack rolled his eyes, "whatever you call 'em, but look."

They followed his finger. "Eight, nine, ten. Ten different parishes, no wonder," Billy said with a sigh.

"FBI started VICAP in 1985," Flack pointed out.

"Yeah, because Louisiana seems like an early adopter of anything," Gus retorted.

"But the prostitutes were all found in New Orleans," Flack replied, trying to be helpful.

Gus made a few more clicks, "and not a single one of them is listed as a cold case. One more murder of a hooker in this town, they are going to close it however they can."

"Or Malleville made sure the cases went bye-bye," Flack suggested.

All three stared dejectedly at the board for a minute before Billy said, "well, I am pretty sure we are not going to figure this out at," he looked at his watch, "2:00am, I'm going to check the weather and then check in with my night managers and we can revisit this all in the real morning." He yawned widely, "or maybe even the afternoon. How do y'all do this, go for days without proper beauty sleep?"

"Coffee," Flack and Gus both quipped, before heading for the stairs.


	13. Spillway

**Chapter 41: Cookies in Scotch**

Thanks to her nap, Gus was up on Wednesday morning before both men, but given the state of worry she put them in the previous morning, she decided to stay put and make herself useful. Since Billy finally relegated himself to only using Buela for special occasions and one day a week for errands, Gus decided that while trying to sort out the wild tangle of cases she could at least make breakfast.

She had just slid a tray of biscuits in the oven when her phone rang, her uncle's number appearing on the screen. "Good Morning, Uncle Mac," she answered sunnily.

Mac smiled, it was good to hear his niece sounding content, perhaps even genuinely happy. "Morning yourself, Gussie, I take it Stella's surprise worked out?"

Gus smirked to herself, thinking of how she got tired out again after her napping, "you could say that."

"You two are coming back to New York, yes?" he asked, only the barest traces of concern in his voice, Gus only picked up on it because she was used to 'concerned Mac' regarding her over the years.

She laughed, "yes, Mac, we will be back, hopefully soon. Missing Don, already, he's only been gone five days?" Gus counted on her fingers, had it really only been five days? It seemed like so much had happened in those five days.

"Not as much as your Captain is, he stopped by my office to complain at length yesterday, said he wanted to get the band back together."

"I'm sure, but don't freak out, not that you freak out per se, but we'll be back. Besides, I thought you wanted us to work things out?"

Mac gave a small sigh, "perhaps I should have been more specific. I was actually checking in to see about the weather."

"Let me guess, the media is freaking out and throwing Katrina images all over the screen?"

"I am allowed to worry," was Mac's only reply leading Gus to flip on the television to confirm her theory.

Gus rolled her eyes and made a small snort, "I love you, Uncle Mac, but this is barely anything. We'll be safe though, I promise. Now what else is happening there? Catch me up."

"Pretty quiet, you know how it gets, anyone that can leaves, does and it isn't hot enough yet for those that can't to get into too much trouble. Stella is already vetoing anybody I am considering for her replacement, though there is a candidate from the FBI we would like to interview. Everyone says hello and wants to know when you are coming back." Mac looked up at Sheldon hovering in the doorway with his tablet. "And I think Hawkes has something for me, just wanted to check in. Take care, Gussie and see you soon."

Gus didn't even have a chance to respond before he was gone. "Some things will never change," she said to the empty kitchen as she poured coffee.

As soon as she pulled the biscuits out of the oven and swapped the tray for bacon, Flack appeared in the kitchen, looking slightly rumpled. Gus was awash with feelings, knowing he must be exhausted, she had pushed through on trying to solve her parents' murder that she hadn't even thought of sleep. If it hadn't been for her meltdown the day before, she would be running on fumes. Despite her concern, she also couldn't help but find him incredibly sexy as he stretched and yawned before pouring a mug of coffee. Not to mention there was something incredibly domestic about him padding barefoot to the oven and peering to see what was inside. She had missed that, more than she ever would have admitted before. Her place had seemed cavernous since she returned from New Orleans the last time, and she knew the only person that would be able to fill the emptiness of both her domicile and her heart was Don.

"I swear you are part bloodhound," she said, lightly smacking Flack's hand away from the basket of biscuits.

"You make good biscuits, sue me," he said, waiting until she had turned back to the television and her coffee before cramming a biscuit in his mouth.

"Don't think I didn't see that, Flack," she said, with a smirk.

"I didn't think you made them to stare at them," he replied with his mouth full, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling her neck for a moment until a graphic appeared on-screen. He swallowed and pointed, "what the hell is that?"

Gus shrugged, "latest computer tracking models."

"And what does it mean that all the lines are pointed at us?" Flack asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"That you should never dip your cookies in scotch," Gus quipped, causing Flack to pull away from her and spin her around.

"Sunshine, you're doing it again," he said, kissing her to stop her eye rolling.

Gus moved away, even though she didn't want to, she just didn't want Billy being greeted with the sight of them making out and she had heard her friend's tread on the stairs. "Means you need to listen better to my music."

"I try, but your musical tastes have severe ADHD, babe," he said, before sniffing at the air, "I think the bacon's done."

"See, bloodhound," she said with a broad smile.

Billy swept in, kissing Gus on her smiling cheek, "someone must have had a good night of sleep," he remarking, taking her offered mug of coffee, "or not sleep," he said, shooting Flack a look.

"Tibs!" "Brooks!" they admonished at the same time.

"I'm just saying, it is nice to see some love in this house and you two cut quite the domestic picture. Sure you don't want to stay here, take this big old house off of my hands, fill it with a bunch of gorgeous light-eyed, sarcastic children?"

"So about this serial killer who murdered my parents," Gus replied as Flack cut in with, "so about this hurricane I am not supposed to worry about?"

"Tropical Storm, tiny hurricane at the most," Billy said with a wave of his hand, "and we have plenty of liquor and propane, a generator and a gun cabinet, we are fine." He looked at them both, waggling his finger, "and nice try you two, but I am not going to let up on y'all just yet."

"Yes you are, Billy Brooks, it is barely 8am and it is not carnival so even I will not drink yet, so stuff a biscuit in your hole and shut it," Gus said, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing.

Billy and Flack exchanged a look, trying to not laugh, knowing it would just make Gus angrier. "Somebody has not had enough coffee yet," Billy remarked, complying with taking a biscuit.

Flack moved back to where Gus was standing in front of the television, leaning to whisper in her ear, "wouldn't be the worst thing ever, would it, sunshine? Though maybe Queens instead of here, it's too damn hot."

"Maybe Riverdale, but not Queens," Gus said, without pause, blushing bright red at the look he gave her when he realized she was only arguing the location. "I take it back, I need a drink," she said, still flushed, before hurrying off to the murder board.

* * *

"So we have 18 prostitutes, 5 rich old women, at least 7 teen girls and my parents who were most likely killed by a serial killer who was also a sheriff who conveniently committed suicide years ago and may or may not have been assisted by the new Commander of the NOPD cold case squad. This is great, why the hell do I need closure again?" Gus said, frustration welling up in her chest. Her good mood turning quickly sour, much like the weather outside the floor to ceiling windows.

"Drink," Billy commanded, handing her a mimosa.

"Breathe," Flack said, taking the glass from her and giving Billy a look before facing her and placing a hand on each of her upper arms, "you don't have to keep doing this, running yourself into the ground is not bringing anybody closure and it isn't what your parents would have wanted. You ever think your pops kept telling you not to be a cop because he knew this is what you would be like with every case? That he didn't want that kind of life for you?"

Gus looked up at him, seeing the concern and worry turn his eyes the color of a cold stormy sea, fighting to find the words to express why she did have to keep at this, what she had to prove to her father, to herself, how desperate she was to free herself from the demons in her past. Luckily, their partnership ran deep enough that she didn't have to put any of it into words, he could see it in her own eyes, written on her face.

He squared his shoulders and gave her a nod, "fine, then, what do you want to do?"

"I need to go out to St. Charles Parish, I want to see where this bastard lived, talk to his wife, you can't be married to a psychopath and not have some clue what he is up to," Gus said, her tone resolute.

"Sounds like you have a plan, might you wait and do that when the weather clears up and today we just sit back and teach NYPD fine here how to throw a proper hurricane party?" Billy suggested, all but wringing his hands.

Flack knew better, knowing the look in Gus' eyes, tracing the line of the jaw she was clenching. "Your jeep can handle this?" he said, hitching a thumb outside.

"She's been through worse, we both have," Gus said, determination plain on her face.

"Let me go change then," he said, heading for the stairs.

"Sugar, you sure about this?" Billy asked as he walked them to the backdoor a few minutes later.

Gus nodded, "we'll be fine, Billy, don't worry, this is just something I have to do."

"Crazy girl, I love you, you know that right? Get her back home in one piece, will you, handsome?" Billy said to Flack.

"Plan on it, Brooks," he said, opening the driver's door on the jeep for Gus, glancing up at the sky churning above the, rain already starting to fall on already saturated ground.

* * *

**Chapter 42: Long Time Ago**

With no patience to deal with the idiots on the main roads, Gus followed the winding road along the Mississippi, the rain growing heavier and wind beginning to batter the jeep as they drove west. Because of the rapidly deteriorating weather, it took them over an hour to make the less than 25 mile journey out into the swamps. Gus checked the address scrawled her palm before pulling up to a rundown house steps from the levee above their heads. She tried to ignore how high the river was, not wanting to worry Flack.

"You sure this is it?" Flack asked, hoping she had read the address wrong. The house looking like something out of a horror movie to say nothing of the burned out trailer behind it. She nodded, pointing to the mailbox next to the driveway, peeling letters spelling out 'Grant'. "Crap," he mumbled, realizing the neighboring houses didn't look anymore welcoming. "I'm coming with you," he said, flinging open the door and being soaked by the sideways rain.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Don, I may need your charms," she said, giving up on the umbrella the wind turned inside out.

Flack gave her a slight smirk, his hand lighting on her lower back as they ran up to the covered porch, not that it provided them much shelter. "How are we playing this, anyway?"

Gus shrugged, looking for a doorbell before knocking, "I am going to make it up as I go along."

A harried looking woman in her fifties answered the door, a television blaring cartoons in the background, "help y'all, you lost or something?"

"Mrs. Grant?" Gus said, wincing at the sounds of children arguing over the remote.

"Last time I checked, I'm willing to be someone else though if it meant I got some peace and quiet!" She turned to bellow inside, "pick a channel and turn that racket down before I make all y'all cut a switch!"

"I'm Detective Broussard, this is my partner Detective Flack, we are investigating some cold cases that I believe your husband may have worked on while he was with the NOPD," Gus said, deciding to be mostly official but, hopefully, unthreatening.

"Broussard, you ain't any relation to that idiot from Jefferson Parish are you?" Mrs. Grant replied, staring from one to the other.

"No ma'am, thank god," Gus said with what she hoped was a winning smile. Flack added one of his own, giving a quick lift to his eyebrows.

"Good, dumber than my no good son-in-law, that one. Come on in out of this weather, can't believe they have you chasing down cold cases in this. Of course, my Shelley had to go in to the refinery even if the school cancelled, which is I how I ended up with this bunch, because Johnny was drunk as a skunk, again."

Gus and Flack stepped over the threshold, sharing a look as they did so. The tiny house was overstuffed with knick knacks, piles everywhere, reeking of cigarette smoke and cooking smells, looking like it had been neglected for years. This did not look like the house of an organized serial killer.

"I hope someone told you my Victor passed nearly six years ago before they sent you all the way out here in this mess," Mrs. Grant said, ushering them to a kitchen yellowed with frying oil and pointing to a marred wooden table, "take a load off."

"Yes, ma'am, I am sorry for your loss, heart attack, wasn't it, his old partner Malleville told me."

"Heart attack, he told you it was a heart attack? If you mean he took his shotgun and put a giant hole in his chest, yeah, I guess it was a heart attack. Good old Mike, always sticking up for my husband," Mrs. Grant said with a bitter laugh.

Flack decided to chime in, "Mrs. Grant, how long were Malleville and your husband partners?" he asked, pulling out a chair for the older woman, causing her to blush.

"Please, call me Ang, Mrs. Grant make me feel so old," she said, all but batting her eyelashes at Flack.

"Ang it is then," he said, smiling back, causing Gus bite back a snort.

Ang sat, lighting up a cigarette without a care in the world. "They weren't partners very long, couple of years maybe, though they grew up together and were thick as thieves up until the day Victor died. Soon as I got pregnant, I wanted out of that hell hole. No offense, but I was born and raised in the swamps and it is where I belong."

"And Victor was alright with this?" Gus asked, hoping she didn't sound too defensive.

Ang nodded, "made much better money with the sheriff's department than he did with the NOPD, didn't get shot at either. I know it don't look like much now, but this place used to be the sweetest little house when Victor was alive. He was real good handyman, always fixing the place up. Plus he had all his toys he liked to tinker with. Bass boat, jet skis, motorcycle, ATV, you name it and his camp out the spillway. Never would have had the time or money for all of that if we had stayed in the city."

Gus pulled a copy of the article she had left on Malleville's desk out of her bag and set it on the worn table, an ear out for Ang's grandchildren who seemed to be entranced with something violent sounding on the television. She hated darkening the house with any more violence, but she had to. "Ma'am, did you remember Victor ever talking about any cases involving prostitutes being killed in the housing projects in the '80's?" she asked softly, sliding the article over to the other woman.

Ang picked it up, ash flicking off the end of her cigarette, a plume of smoke reaching out toward Gus. Gus vowed to never light up again, no matter how stressful life got. Her eyes quickly scanned the article, barely skimming over the photograph of her late husband. "That was a long time ago," she said, hastily handing the article back to Gus.

"Anything at all you can remember, Ang," Flack prodded, knowing he had a better chance at getting any information.

"He had just made detective, was how I agreed to marry him, that and him getting me knocked up," she said with a smile, "look, I don't know why they are making you spend your time on some jungle bunny hookers that got killed by some useless drug dealers forever ago when every time I turn on the news I am hearing about a whole mess of people getting killed down there."

Gus and Flack exchanged another look, forcing themselves to stay passive. Flack spoke up first, trying to remain cool. "I understand this may be hard for you, but is there anything at all that you remember from that time?"

"Victor tried to keep his work separate, even back then. He didn't bring it home with him, except out back in his trailer or at his camp. He and Mike called it their clubhouse. Boys will always be boys, I suppose. Thank god we had only girls." Gus and Flack exchanged another look, which Ang caught, she lit a new cigarette before stubbing out her old one on a saucer. "Flack, huh, what kind of name is that? Where your people at?"

Gus could see the confusion flit across Flack's face and didn't want to reveal just yet that they weren't officially with the NOPD. "Are you still in contact with Commander Malleville?"

Ang gave another little laugh, "Commander, still can't get over that. I met them both when they had just started the academy. I was trying to find myself in the city, whatever that means, I was working at some hole in the wall by the Fairgrounds, they all liked to come in after training, 'cause first round was always on the house. Guess I shouldn't be surprised he moved up in the ranks, Mike always did like to boss people around. When I first met Victor, I thought he might be a little, you know, funny, because of the way he acted around Mike, like he had a schoolgirl crush on him."

Flack and Gus just nodded, hoping to get more out of her. She got up to check on her grandchildren before coming back in to the kitchen and pouring them all iced tea. "It's really coming down out there, can't believe we are already on B and it is just into June, gonna be a bad year, hope the roof makes it," Ang said before sitting back down and going back to her cigarette.

"Everyone was like that with Mikey, he just had this way with people. He was the one I wanted to ask me out, but I settled on Victor, once I figured out he wasn't light in the loafers. Probably for the best, I got great in-laws and Mikey never did settle down. I thought he might try to make a move after Victor passed but no such luck. He stops in still from time to time on his way to the camp, Victor left it to him, he'll do a bit here and there. For someone so fussy he never was one to get his hands real dirty. He didn't need to, he had Victor for that. Victor would always be at his beck and call, any time day or night. We had quite a few fights about it, I reckon, but I just had to learn that when it came to Mike Malleville and Victor, I was going to come in second place."

Gus felt a pit growing in her stomach, it wasn't out of the question for serials to work in pairs, especially if one was dominate and needed a submissive partner. She caught on something Ang had said, "great in-laws, that's a blessing," she remarked.

Ang gave another laugh, this one more genuine, until it turned into a coughing fit, her smoker's lungs hacking away until she took a long drink of iced tea. "Sorry about that, know I should quit before these damn things kill me." She wiped at her mouth, "a blessing indeed, you always hear stories about monster-in-laws, but Victor's parents were the sweetest little couple, doted on Victor, especially after his little sister was killed. She was only 13, the little angel. Now there is a cold case for you. I don't think Victor ever got over it, he was only 16 when she died. Mike's family, on the other hand, well let's just say I see why he spent so much time at the Grant's. His daddy was mean as a snake and always stepping out with some porch bunny and he was the nicer of the two. Mikey's mama, woo boy, don't even get me started. Never did figure out how he turned out to be such a charmer, except he wanted to be different than his parents I suspect. The rest of his family, they just trashy, but think they can do whatever because they have Mikey to bail them out, course he likes that, he always did like having the upper hand."

Gears were turning in both the detective's heads, a complete silent conversation occurring as they looked at each other again, pieces of the puzzle dropping into place. Ang looked from one to the other, getting the feeling they were more than just work partners, she gave them a small and nod. "Good for you," she said to Gus with a wink.

The wind had picked up as they were talking, whipping around the house, howling through the trees. Gus could see why Ang was worried about the roof. The lights flickered momentarily, the cable going out, causing an uproar from the living room. Ang rushed out before the children started fighting again. Flack and Gus following taking in the photographs lining the walls in the living room.

"You two may want to go back to the city before this gets any worse. Sorry I couldn't be of more help. Mikey really would know more than me, he and Victor talked every case over, even after we moved out here. I think Victor liked hearing about all the big city cases, not much happens out here other than meth labs and kids shooting out stop signs, most excitement he ever got was a body turning up here and there in the swamps." She led them to the door as she was talking, not liking the way the pair was looking around her living room.

Ang Grant started to open the door, the wind flinging it open the rest of the way. The sky was an odd mix of gun-metal gray and murky green, dumping buckets of rain on already flooding ground. "Y'all get back safe now, you hear?" she said, wrestling to the close the door.

* * *

**Chapter 43: Camp**

"That was enlightening," Flack said as they waded more than walked back to the jeep, water pooling at about ankle level. He looked up at the levee, "they did fix those things, right?" he said, gesturing to the river well above them.

"Mostly," Gus said, already soaked to the bone, thankful it was a warm rain. "Bet you even Lindsay would be out walking in this crap," she said as they slammed the doors on the jeep.

"Because nobody should be out in this. Just a little something, huh, sunshine?" Flack remarked as the sky opened up even more, lightning striking one of the rods on top of the adjacent refinery.

"Comparatively," she said, texting Billy for the information she wanted before handing the phone back to Flack and starting the jeep.

"New Orleans is back that way, Gus," Flack remarked, as they headed in a still westerly direction.

Gus gave a small shake of her head, "I know my way around here, Don, and the spillway is that way and I want to see what is in that damn camp."

"Tent, fire pit, couple logs to sit on. I didn't think you were a fan of camping, sunshine."

"Not that kind of camp, out here they mean fishing or hunting camp. Cabin, boat launch, all those toys Ang was talking about. The perfect little retreat for a serial killer or two."

"I usually like to let you deal with all the crazy shit, but I gotta agree, it seems like Grant and Malleville were in it together. And people think our partnership is complicated," he gave her a smirk as he tried to ignore the amount of water Gus was driving through.

She gave a small laugh, turning at the last second to avoid a section of completely washed out road, driving up on top of a levee.

"Jesus, and I thought Midtown traffic was bad!" Flack exclaimed.

"It fits, it really fits. Dominate and submissive friends, a suspiciously murdered sister when they were teens, dad has a thing with black women on the side, mom was abusive older lady, not to mention there is something about Malleville that makes my skin crawl," she ticked the items off on her fingers.

Flack grabbed the wheel, "I agree, it fits, but could you ten and two while driving through a hurricane on not even a freaking road!"

Gus gripped the wheel, knowing Flack was right, even the jeep having trouble finding purchase in the slick mud, "that better, city boy?" she teased.

"As good as I am going to get," he said with a grimace. Her phone buzzed. "Brooks says it is quarter mile in from 628 and halfway between River Road and the train bridge. Says there's only one solid road in and it is between the three clumps of trees. Is he serious with this?" Flack said, looking out at the swamp to their right, not seeing anything that looked solid.

"Well it isn't like anyone is going to bust the Sheriff for having an illegal fish camp in the middle of the Spillway. Further adding to our list," she said, trying to see through the sheets of rain. "I think this is it, I hope," she said, pausing at a muddy, half-washed out road.

"You hope, and if it isn't?" Flack smirked.

Gus put the jeep in 4 low before turning, "how strong of a swimmer are you?" she asked with a wicked grin.

Flack growled, "not freaking funny, Broussard."

They inched their way through the mud, Gus not wanting to chance getting stuck in the middle of the spillway. "We're fine, Flack, promise." She spied the three stands of trees Billy had told them to look for just up ahead, "see, the camp should be somewhere in there." She stopped the jeep, cutting the ignition. "We should probably leave this here, I don't like the looks of that," she said, taking in the deep mud covered path leading up to cabin.

Flack nodded in agreement, debating asking why the cabin was on stilts, but thinking he didn't really want to know the answer.

They climbed the stairs to the cabin, which appeared in better condition than the Grant's home, something Gus found infinitely sad. Malleville was obviously still using it often.

They both stopped at the front door cursing. "Three freaking padlocks on a fishing camp, come on!" Flack said, staring down at the door, "it's a shack on stilts for crying out loud."

Gus had already disappeared around the wide side porch, "and even shacks have windows, come give me a boost, blue eyes!" she called out, the screen from the window already off and in her hand.

"Gus, come on, we are still cops!" Flack protested.

Gus paused, "and I think I hear someone calling for help inside." She started to look around for something to climb on.

Flack shook his head with a growl, "no felonies, huh?" he said, offering his interlaced palms to her.

She pulled off her muddy sneakers and took the boost, giving a silent prayer of thanks when the window slid easily open. She wiggled through, dropping down on a small kitchen counter. "He definitely still comes out here, place is damn clean." She hopped down, taking in the sparse furniture and variety of dead animals adorning the walls.

Other than a couple of recliners, a small table with mismatched chairs and a tiny TV still sporting rabbit ears, there didn't appear to be much to the place. "Definitely a man cave," she called out, trying to see in the dark cabin. "Damn, power's out," she swore, after fumbling for a light switch.

Gus appeared back at the window, looking down at Flack, "hand me my phone, I need light in there."

Flack handed it up to her but rolled his eyes, "sure, no problem, and I'll just hang out here trying to not get struck by lightning or eaten by an alligator."

"In this weather, sugar, the alligators are way more worried about keeping safe than eating," she said before disappearing again.

"Maybe we should take that as a cue," he yelled back.

Gus located a flashlight under the sink, aiming the beam around the two room cabin. In addition to the animal carcasses and frightening number of firearms on the walls, there were also endless photographs of Grant and Malleville on various adventures from childhood to what Gus could only assume was right before Victor committed suicide.

She wished she could have gotten more information from Ang on the Feds coming to question her husband, but she knew they had gotten all they were going to from her. "Just a couple of besties, handing out, killing people," she muttered as she took in all the photographs.

Flack's face appeared in the window as he balanced on a couple of stacked ice chests, "how's it going in there, Broussard?" He took in what he could see of the cabin, "I like what they've done with the place," he snipped.

"I am so glad you don't hunt," Gus shot back with a shiver, able to do a thorough search of the cabin fairly quickly given its open design and small size.

"Only bad guys, and I generally try to not shoot them."

"Good, we aren't mounting any perps over our fireplace either," she said, trying to lighten the mood and banish the creepy crawlies as she headed towards the bedroom. The décor was much the same in the tiny paneled bedroom, with most of the photographs related to Grant and Malleville law enforcement days. End table instead of a night stand, no closet, world's smallest bathroom, camp cot and a dresser where the only things in the bedroom. Gus quickly moved through the dresser, pulling out stacks of slightly musty linens and hunting overalls, checking each drawer for a false bottom.

"Anything?" Flack called, hating the fact that she was out of his line of sight and not enjoying the colors the sky was turning as the rain and wind continued to swirl around them nor the odd alarm he heard in the distance, the howling wind covering it mostly up.

Gus looked around, down at the floor, up at the ceiling, feeling like she was missing something, that there was evidence of Grant and Malleville sadistic secret hobby here and she just had to find it. "No, god damn it!" She shone the beam around the walls one more time, about to give up on the whole thing when she spied it. "Wait," she said, rushing out of the bedroom back to the kitchen, rifling through the one set of drawers before pulling out a hunting knife.

"Still cops, Broussard!" Flack yelled after her.

"Bingo," she exclaimed, running the knife down the seam she had spied in the paneling, prying it open to reveal an old closet that had been hidden. She took in the rolls of plastic, duct tape and zip ties, recalling that the method of strangulation on several of the victims was from those hard plastic ties. What stopped her heart cold, however, was the metal file cabinet. She yanked the handle, not surprised to find it locked. She came back to the kitchen, Flack still hovering in the window frame. "Secret closet," she said to his questioning face, "filled with body dump supplies and a locked file cabinet."

Gus was about to start rifling through the drawers again when Flack reached into his pocket and pulled out his ever-present pocket knife, "glad I checked this then," he said, opening it up to a lock picking tool.

"Look at you being the boy scout," Gus said with a smirk as she took it.

Flack gave her a look, "I would ask if you need help, but I am pretty sure I know the answer. How did you pass background checks?"

"It's not about what you do, it's about if you get caught, Don," she said with a wicked grin, "besides it was my father who taught me."

A few minutes later Flack heard the swearing outside, even over the wind and rain. "Sick son of a bitch!" Gus ended her rant, followed by a crash. "Sunshine, I can't fit through this window," he called out.

Gus came back in, "you don't need to. We need to call the Feds, idiots kept their own books on every freaking murder, better paperwork than they probably turned in on their actual cases. Photographs, diagrams, plans, timelines, everything! And I am pretty sure Malleville is still at it!" She pulled herself back up on the counter, not mentioning the evidence bag containing a patch of skin included in every file, trying to keep what little remained of her breakfast down, to blot out the image of the small plastic pouch stapled to a file folder, her mother's name written in block lettering in red marker.

He helped her back out the window, "and the crash?"

"Me flipping over the file cabinet," she said, before leaning over the side railing and emptying the acidic contents of her stomach.

"That detailed, huh?" Flack said, giving her a moment before handing her his handkerchief.

"See, boy scout," she said, taking it with a teary grin.

Flack took a deep breath, not wanting to ask, "and your parents, did they have files in there?"

Gus nodded her head, sliding down the porch railing, "my mother did, I guess I have my answer-" she broke off, "Don, how long has that buzzing been going on?"

Flack shrugged, "I don't know, since you went into the bedroom, I think. It isn't a tornado siren, right?" he said looking at the sky, thinking it sounded more like something from a submarine.

She thought about how high the river had been, how much it had rained as of late, how waterlogged the roads had been all the way in. "Crap! Shoes, where are my shoes?" she said, looking around in a panic.

Flack handed them to her, "care to fill me in on what it means then?"

Gus pulled on her shoes and was already dragging him back to the jeep, "it means I take back the swimming comment and we are about to go muddin', because they opened the spillway," she said at a dead run.

* * *

**Chapter 44: Spillway**

Flack slid in beside her, barely getting the door closed before she slammed the jeep into high and slinging mud behind them as they shot northbound as fast as the mud and rain would allow. "I take it opening the spillway is not a good thing?"

"It is great for downriver, it is what stops New Orleans from getting flooded again," she said, trying to see through the mud on the windshield.

"Let me take a guess on where that water goes," Flack said, fighting the urge to look behind them.

"35,000 to 100,000 cubic feet per second from the river to the lake depending on how many gates they open," she said, trying to avoid the ruts in the road and keep from sliding off the levee they were on.

Flack did some rough calculations in his head, wishing one of the lab rats was here. "How far from the river to the lake?" he asked, giving in and looking behind them. Sure enough, the land below the levee they were on was quickly disappearing.

"Six miles, but we just need to get to Airline and hope it is open," Gus said, pressing gently down on the gas as she shifted gears, trying to ignore both the rising water and her sense of panic. She wasn't going to have finally figured out who killed her parents only to kill her and Don before they had a true shot at happy ever after. She wasn't freaking cursed, damn it!

"What was that, sunshine?" Flack asked, thinking he was hearing her say something about a curse again.

Gus let out a whoosh of air, "highway," she barked out, jutting her chin forward as they emerged from a last strand of cyprus trees. The lack of any traffic on the highway told Gus the road was closed, but she didn't care, it was above water and that is all she needed. She pressed down on the accelerator hoping up on to the pavement, squealing across several lanes.

Flack held on for dear life, vowing to never her give her the keys in New York. They sped west less than a mile when she jerked them around a barricade. "Did that just say-" he started asking.

"Road closed, yeah, it's fine," she said, though her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest as she cut through LaPlace and back towards the interstate, the rain and wind still buffeting the jeep as she white knuckled the steering wheel.

"Fine, there is nothing about this that is fine, Gus!" Flack protested, silently praying to not die in Louisiana.

Gus gulped, "I know, but we just need to get back. See if you can get a signal and call Billy, see if he knows anybody in the Feds locally."

* * *

They made it back to the interstate the only people out on the roads other than a couple of state troopers that flashed their lights at them. Gus turned east, back towards New Orleans as Flack threw down the phone in anger, "not a damn bar, freaking technology, freaking hurricane."

Gus didn't blame him, she felt the same way, not to mention she was realizing how reckless it was to chase answers in the middle of a hurricane not to mention almost getting flooded out on the spillway. She stabbed angrily at the button to turn the radio on, straining to hear through the static.

'Eye to pass ..Southeast Louisiana...next hour...unprecedented...all 350 bays...spillway...open' came the voice through the crackles.

"Damn," Gus breathed, slowing as they came up over the spillway on the interstate.

"I need a translator again," Flack said, wondering why she was slowing down, but slightly relieved.

"Means the eye is going to pass over us, which means this will let up for a bit," she said gesturing as she pulled to the shoulder, "and that all the bays of the spillway are open," she said, throwing the jeep in park and getting out before Flack realized what she was doing.

"Gus, what the hell, get back in the car, haven't you tried to kill us enough today?" he yelled after her, stopping short as he saw the look on her face as she surveyed the swamp below.

Flack shook his head, exiting the jeep as well, it wasn't like they were going to get any wetter and at least the lightning had stopped. He paled slightly as he spied the river in the distance and the now distinct lack of land between it and them, raging waters flowing under their feet as the water made its way unrelentingly toward the lake. The earth had disappeared as though it had never existed in the first place.

He took in Gus' expression, could tell she was holding back tears. He didn't know what to do, couldn't figure out what the appropriate response was, if there was one, when it hit him. Flack looked back out at where they had been, trying to spy the three separate groves of trees. "How often do they open all the bays?" he asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"All 350, not since the year after we were born. It floods too much habitat, washes away everything in the spillway. Everything," she said, a single tear escaping from the corner of her eye. The irony of it too much for her, thinking everything was washed away with Katrina, learning differently and having the Corps of Engineers flood out the truth.

"Gus, I'm sorry," Flack said, wincing as she yanked away as he tried to reach for her.

"It isn't your fault, Don, but I can tell you I am never working for the federal government, they have now messed up solving my parents murder. Twice!" she said, her voice rising to a scream on the last words.

Flack heaved a sigh, wanting to placate her but knowing it couldn't be done. "Maybe the camp didn't flood, we were pretty high up," he suggested, knowing it wasn't true.

Gus closed her eyes, "nice try, Don, but you and I both know, Malleville is getting off. Again. And now Stella is going to be working with a serial killer."

"You don't know that, you saw what you saw, you could still take that to the FBI," he trailed off, his training kicking in, knowing they would look like lunatics if they tried to take this further. "Fuck!" he bellowed into the wind and rain that were still lashing out at them.

"That sick fucking asshole is going to get away with it unless-" Gus said, before stopping short.

Flack saw the look in her eyes, knew it from his own darkest day. "No, I won't let you, it won't bring your parents back, it won't fix anything. I won't let you do that to yourself, to us. I barely came back, Gus, I wouldn't have if..." he trailed off, grabbing Gus and pulling her to his chest, holding her tighter as she struggled, knowing the battle happening between her head and her heart. "I am not going to let you kill Malleville because I love you and there has been enough blood spilled already. That is not the life I am going to build with you. We have to let everything else go."

Gus looked up at him, raining pelting down on them, their clothes plastered against their bodies, seemingly the only two people on the all but abandoned highway. "He deserves to rot in hell, Don," she said, looking up at him, her tears hidden by the rain.

"But you aren't putting him there. You are better than that, better than me and that is why I need you, I want you, only you, Gus, forever," he said, his voice cracking slightly, the ghosts of their past breaking free as his lips sought hers, being swept away with the raging waters below them.


	14. Let It Go

**Chapter 45: Let It Go**

The ringing of their phones brought them back to reality, the cell towers back up as the sky over them cleared, the eye of the hurricane passing overhead. "We should head home," Gus said, meaning more than just back to New Orleans.

Flack nodded, realizing how soaked they and the mud covered jeep were. "Get your boxers out of a twist, Brooks, we are fine and headed back," he said into Gus' phone as she pointed them back east.

"Who the hell goes into the spillway in the middle of a hurricane while the Corps is opening the bays?" Billy said, as they tried to explain why they showed up soaked and covered in mud on the back porch. "I just can't even, I should turn the hose on both of you, trying to give me a heart attack and going to mess up my clean floors. Just go, hot showers both of you and I'll fix us something to eat and drink. Dear Lord tiny baby Jesus," he said, shaking his head.

"I think we should just burn them," Gus said, pointing their sopping pile of clothes on the floor, wrapped in a robe after she showered.

"As if they would catch," Flack remarked, squeezing out his shoe. "Are you going to tell Brooks about the camp?" he asked when he emerged from the shower.

"I don't know," Gus replied with a sigh from her seat at the vanity, fighting the wet tangles in her hair. "I mean, what good will it do, like you said, I have to just let it go, I wanted to know who killed my parents, I do, so what if he is a ranking official for the city my father died trying to protect?" The bitterness was clear in her voice, causing Flack to look at her with concern. "I am not going to sneak away and put one in his head, Don, even if I want to. I heard you, I know what you meant and that isn't how I want to start over with you either. Besides, I am too pretty for prison."

The joke lay flat between them, worry etched on Flack's face. "It isn't starting over, Gus, it's picking up where we left off."

"Which time?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror.

"I'm just saying, I know it isn't a blank slate between us, but that's good in some ways. Like we already know what drives the other person crazy and we get to skip over all the bullshit."

"Don Flack, endless romantic," Gus replied with a smile, knowing what he meant.

"Never took you for the flowers and chocolate type, Augusta, I remember that not going well the few times we tried it."

"It isn't that I don't like romance, Don, it's that I don't like it all public and forced. Love isn't something that you only express when it's socially mandated, you know?" she said, giving up on her hair and just pulling it back.

"Noted," he said, kissing her on her head as he passed by hoping he had clean, dry clothes, he hadn't packed much for what he thought was only a couple of days adventure.

Gus followed him into the bedroom, taking in his scowl as he looked at his empty carry-on. She opened a drawer on the dresser to reveal his freshly laundered clothing. "As much as I hate to tell you where your clothing is," she said with a smile, tugging on the towel around his waist, "I made sure it all got to the laundry before I had my little childhood revisit yesterday."

"Another non-socially mandated reason why I love you," Flack replied, moving in for a kiss, giving her a smirk when he broke off, taking in the flush of her cheeks as he let the towel fall to the floor.

"You two going to tell me what you learned on your little jaunt or not?" Billy asked as they sat around the table playing cards and drinking later, the remains of the hurricane finally blowing through.

Flack and Gus exchanged a long look, Billy just sat with his eyebrows raised until Gus said, "not now, and I fold."

"What happened out there to you, Augusta, you never fold!" Billy exclaimed, looking at his friend but not pressing when he saw the look on Flack's face.

"Finally learning my lesson and growing up, Tibs, that's all," she said, getting up to make them more drinks.

"Perish the thought," Billy teased but giving Flack a look. Flack just shook his head, saying, "call."

* * *

Gus was plagued by nightmares all night long, soothed only briefly by Flack holding her tightly. She had just bolted upright from another one involving raging waters sweeping him away when she heard the doorbell chime at daybreak the next morning. Flack passed out beside her, was snoring lightly. She felt bad, knowing how sleep deprived they all were. She slipped out of bed, pulling her robe around her, the doorbell sounding again, realizing she didn't hear anything coming from Billy's room. He had left sometime late the night before, wanting to make sure the club had made it fine through the storm.

She peered out the sidelight on the front door, thinking it was probably some stupid tourists looking to see what damage there was in the park, but was taken aback when she saw Lieutenant Colston and a uniform standing there.

"Sir," she said, opening the door warily.

"So you are still here," he said, giving her a nod.

Gus suddenly felt very naked underneath her robe and clutched in closed around her. "For the time being, why don't y'all come in and I will put some coffee on?"

Colston cleared his throat, "this isn't really a social call, Broussard." Gus just nodded, unsure how to react, wanting to know why her temporary boss was suddenly on her doorstep acting close-mouthed.

The uniform shifted behind him, his hand resting on his service weapon in a way that made Gus' eyes narrow. Colston caught her change of expression, following her eyes. "Reade, get back in the damn car, I've got this," he barked, causing the uniform to practically run down the steps and back around into the service alley. "Cup of coffee sounds great, Broussard," he said, still uneasy.

Gus threw open the door, hoping that Billy hadn't come home and wasn't going to anytime soon and that Flack stayed asleep upstairs. "Please, come in," she said, ushering them to the kitchen, thankful that Billy owned a single serving coffee maker as well. "Pick your poison," she said, gesturing to the coffee. She got out cream and sugar, sliding the cup of french roast back at Colston. "So if this isn't a social call and you know I am not accepting any job offers, why are you here?" she said, taking a large gulp of coffee and getting straight to the point.

"Angela Grant come into the station early this morning to turn herself in for killing Commander Malleville."

Gus barely made it to the sink in time to spit her coffee out, "she did WHAT?!"

Flack chose that point to come padding down the stairs, still pulling a shirt over his head. "Sunshine, why are you up, I thought we could sleep in one morning since we figured out-" he stopped seeing the obvious cop sitting at the kitchen island.

"Care to join Lieutenant Colston and I for coffee, Detective Flack?" Gus asked by way of introduction as though they were hanging out in the precinct break room.

Flack shot her a smirk behind Colston's back, he had to give it to her, even in clad only in a short robe, she still could bust some balls. "Out early this morning, huh, Lieutenant? I don't know how to convince you guys, but I'm under orders to get her back to the NYPD," he said, sidling up to the kitchen island, towering over the seated Colston.

"As I was telling your, uh, Broussard here, it isn't a social call. I understand you two met Victor Grant's widow yesterday, she was under the impression you worked for the NOPD, which I found highly interesting when she showed up in my office looking to confess to shooting Commander Malleville late last night."

Gus forced herself to look directly at Colston, hoping Flack would follow suit, staring the man square in the face before asking, "did she?"

"Considering she was still covered in his blood when she came in, I would say yes, don't get many false confessions these days, especially not when they are coming in with bits of the vic in their hair."

"What exactly can we help you with, Lieutenant?" Flask asked, standing tall with squared shoulders and his arms flexing across his chest.

Colston stood as well, though it was Gus he chose to face off with. "Just found it curious why Mrs. Grant wanted me to tell you that she hoped this answered all the questions she didn't yesterday. Anything you want to fill me in on, Broussard?"

"Officially?" Gus asked, wishing she had put on some damn pants before answering the door.

Colston put his hands up, "how about you tell me and I let you know what I put in the report?"

Gus allowed herself one small look to Flack, who gave the smallest shake of his head. "We did meet her yesterday, we never said we were with NOPD."

"How the hell did you meet up with a woman who lives out in the swamps in the middle of the hurricane?" Colston said shaking his head and wondering if this had anything to do with the mud covered jeep the cruiser parked behind.

Gus gave a shrug with little information. "I was curious to who killed my parents, sir."

Colston looked from one detective to the other, weighing what he wanted to know and what he needed for his damn report. "Are you still curious, Broussard?"

Gus gave a firm shake of her head, "nope, think I got it out of my system, sir."

"Full confession, she say why?" Flack asked, his face still blank.

Colston looked at the other man curiously, "said she blamed him for her husband's troubles and suicide, felt it was time for him to face the music."

Flack raised his eyebrows, "sounds like you have everything you need for your report then."

"I supposed I do, just wanted to pass the message along and see, oh hell, what does it matter? How much longer are you in town for, Broussard?" Colston said, rubbing as his head.

Gus looked at Flack before answering, "I'm thinking not much longer, sir."

"Good, next time just come back for Mardi Gras or something and stay the hell out of my hair," he said, already walking toward the door, "thanks for the coffee."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Flack said as soon as Colston left.

Gus slumped at the counter, feeling shaky, "I don't...I can't even, but I think I will take it. As horrible as that sounds."

"Do you think she knew everything?" Flack asked, rubbing her on her shoulders.

She nodded, sadly, "as I said, I just don't think someone can be married to somebody for that long and not have some idea. I think she knew all along, she just didn't want to admit it and then we show up on her doorstep and stirred everything up."

"Please don't tell me you are blaming yourself from Angela Grant killing a freaking serial killer!" Flack protested, spinning her stool around to face him.

Gus sighed, "I'm not, it just almost seems too easy, too convenient."

Flack made a strangled noise, "Gus, we almost got washed away in a hurricane yesterday, this hasn't been easy or convenient. You have wondered most of your life what happened to your parents, thinking you were cursed. That is done with now, you can move on, we can move on. Who cares how it happened? He got what he deserved."

"I can't really get on board with an eye for an eye, Don, not even now. Though you are right, it is over, I can let it go and we can move on. But can I put some pants on first, please?" she said with a forced smile.

"In a minute," Flack retorted, pulling her up off the stool and in for a kiss, turning her smile into a much more genuine one.

* * *

**Chapter 46: Walk Among the Angels**

"Anyone want to tell me why I just ran into two policemen in my drive wanting to know where you two were last night and good lord, could you please take that upstairs it is far too early for that nonsense," Billy said, coming in the backdoor off the kitchen.

"Pants," Gus said, breathlessly, running for the stairs.

"Morning, Brooks," Flack replied with a Cheshire grin.

"So about those policemen?" Brooks said, making himself a mug of coffee.

Flack nodded, unsure of how much Gus wanted him to know. "Let's just say I am guessing we will be heading back to New York soon."

"Well thank god for that, though you better be good to her, or I swear I will get on a plane and kick your cute little ass," Billy said, shaking his finger at Flack.

"I am planning on it and I would love to see you try, Brooks."

Gus came downstairs, clad in another sundress Flack knew he was going to miss when they headed back to the city and she had to start dressing like a detective again. "Boys, do I need to separate you two?" she said with a wide smile, somewhat forced as she was still reeling from the information Colston delivered this morning.

"We're fine, Gus," Flack replied, looking at her admiringly.

"Detective Sexy here was just telling me he wants back in the Big Apple soon, and I was just thinking you better make sure you show him all of the Big Easy first," Billy said, looking at his friend and her beau, silently wishing them both the best.

"Well let's see, he got wasted in the Quarter, I gave him the driving tour, he saw the house I grew up in and the one that I sold to buy my co-op, helped me with solving my parents' murder, almost drowned in a hurricane and learned that Stella's almost new boss was both a serial killer and shot by a woman we met out in the swamp yesterday. So I am thinking we're good, Tibs, but thanks," Gus said, ticking the items off on her fingers.

"I'm going to need a minute to digest all that and a lot more coffee, sugar," Billy said, shaking his head in amazement.

"Speaking of hurricanes, where are your keys to the jeep, Broussard?" Flack asked, his arm wrapped around Gus' waist.

Gus gestured with her chin toward the hooks but the door, "over there, why?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.

Flack kissed her on the forehead before striding over and grabbing her keys, "because if you think I am letting you drive again today after almost getting us both killed yesterday..." Gus narrowed her eyes at him until he broke into a dimpled smile. "Just teasing, sunshine, it's a nice jeep and maybe I don't get much of a chance to drive without tons of traffic."

"Fine, Flack, you can drive my jeep, but I control the radio," Gus said, grabbing her bag and following him out the door.

"What else is new?" he said with a smirk.

* * *

"Don why are we here, how are we here?" Gus asked as Flack pulled up in front of a structure familiar to her, but she wasn't sure how he knew about it.

He turned off the jeep, "I know how to use my smart phone, you know and I thought you might like to light a couple of candles, so what better place?" Flack shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear, looking into her eyes.

"Yeah, but how did you know about this church?" she asked, as a couple of elderly women gingerly walked out of the church after early morning mass.

"You pulled out those moldy photo albums when you first met Reed, remembered you telling him it was the church your parents met in, showing him the pics of Claire at their wedding."

"Don, that was years ago!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, but as I said, we aren't starting from a blank slate and that's a good thing. Now how about we go light some candles and you can tell Grams I willingly stepped foot in a church."

"You're a good man, Don Flack," she said, giving him a long kiss before exiting the jeep and heading in to light her candles.

Flack waited behind in the back of the church as Gus made her way immediately to the altar. Given the early hour of the weekday morning, the church was empty. He slipped in a pew, trying to think of the last time he had been in a church, the last time he had prayed. Grams was on his ass about it enough, but faith had left him the day Jess had bled out in the OR. So much had left him that day, except the blonde haired woman making her way to the side altar, at least until he had almost destroyed them both. He swallowed, bowing his head, thinking maybe it was time to find that faith again, to seek forgiveness.

He looked up seeing Gus' hand waver over a smaller votive, as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to light it or not. Flack knew she was wrestling with her feelings over Malleville, torn between letting go and remembrance. He knew those feelings all too well, and his chest ached that she was hurting like he had. Flack made his way toward the altar, his feet moving before his head could catch up, as he thinking about another time he had been in a church with her lighting candles. The first ill-fated proposal after the case where those terminally ill kids were acting out murder-suicide fantasies. Had that really been over three years ago? Flack dropped to his knees beside her, lighting one large candle, crossing himself and mouthing a silent prayer. Gus caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, barely shifting her eyes to look at him, the stick in her hand becoming engulfed in flames as she still debated. Flack looked at her for a long beat before taking the stick from her and lighting a smaller votive himself, raising his eyebrows at her before handing it back. She gave the barest of nods before lighting one last candle, offering up a small prayer, her eyes glistening with tears.

Flack squeezed her shoulder, kissing her on the top of her head before rising and walking back out of the church, wanting to give her a moment. Gus emerged from the church a couple of minutes later, looking slightly subdued but somehow lighter. "Hey," he said, studying her carefully.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, standing on tiptoe to give him a peck, "thank you," she almost whispered.

Flack gave a small shrug, unsure of what to say. Gus could sense his discomfort, "good thing I didn't get sent here after my parents..." she said, hitching a thumb toward the buildings forming a courtyard around the church. Flack looked on quizzically. "Convent," she replied with a small smile, happy he also cracked one. "Say, speaking of miracles, you already found parking in the Quarter, want to walk along the river?" Flack still didn't say much, other than to give Gus a quiet "sure" while following her down to the river path.

They walked along the wide river, cargo ships passing by, the Calliope of the paddlewheel sounding in the near distance. They walked close, occasionally brushing up against each other, but lost in their own thoughts.

Having already felt distance from him too often, it was Gus who broke their silence first. "That big candle, it was for Jess wasn't it?" she said softly, looking out at the river instead of at him. She knew this was the case, as she knew the smaller candle had been for Jess' killer, she wasn't sure why she wanted to hear Flack say it, except he had closed in on himself since walking up river.

Flack nodded as he kept walking, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, "yeah, that alright?" His tone almost terse.

Gus almost skidded to a stop, reaching out to catch his elbow, forcing him to stop as well. "Of course it is alright, Don. You loved her and she died! Do you think I am that petty?" she looked up at him, worry creasing her brow.

"I just know you and her were kind of on the outs before, you know-" Flack gestured, stepping off the path to let a pack of mothers with strollers roll through.

"Because I was stupid and lost you to her. How could I not realize, I mean who wouldn't fall in love with her? I was jealous and angry, but that doesn't mean I don't understand how much it hurts. I know there will always be a little bit of your heart that died that day too, Don, I'm just hoping there is enough of it left over for me." Gus swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check, feeling suddenly insignificant next to the mighty river. She had thought her ghosts were put to rest, but she wasn't sure about his.

His response was to pull her to his chest, off the path as well, holding her tightly, despite the heat and humidity dampening them both. "How many times do I gotta tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you and I don't know how to stop even when I've tried?" Flack said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Gus stayed wrapped in his arms, though not returning his embrace as she was at war with herself. She had spent the past few months running herself ragged to banish all the demons in her life, but she still somehow felt something weight down her heart.

Flack stepped back slightly, releasing her, his hands remaining on her upper arms looking down at her. "What, what is going on with you, Gus?"

Gus walked over to the edge of the banks, wrapping her arms around her even as the heat weighed down the air. She looked out over the river with a sigh. "I do love you, Don, that is why I left, why I have worked so hard to get rid of all this stuff," she gestured widely, "but I still worry."

He stood beside her, slight smirk playing on his lips, "what else is new?" he asked, teasingly.

She studied the West Bank intently for a moment before closing her eyes, knowing she had to let loose with all her fears if she really expected those ghosts to not keep haunting her, them. "I worry that there will always be a little part of you that is wondering 'what if', what life could have been like with Jess, how easy and wonderful it would have been. I worry that you will never get over wondering that, especially since it is something that can't be known."

Flack sighed, shaking his head as he moved to the other side of the path, looking out at Jackson Square splayed below them, the French Quarter and rest of New Orleans beyond that. "I worry the same thing about you and this damn city Gus, that you will always wonder what it would have been like if you had stayed, married Gage, down the uptown thing, if Katrina had never happened. So Jess is my New Orleans and we'll both never know what if, but that shouldn't stop us from the here and now. I want to give us another chance!"

"What if we've used up our second chances, Don?" Gus asked, following after him. She was slightly exasperated, though more with herself than Flack. She looked down at the square before looking back at him, the city disappearing as she took in his expression.

"Second chances don't expire, sunshine," he replied, reaching out and lightly stroking her cheek.

"What about third chances?" she quipped.

He smiled down at her, dimples on display, "you keeping count?"

Gus couldn't help but smile back, he had made her weak in the knees since the day she first ran into him. "Maybe," she said, her tone much lighter.

"Well then, third time is the charm, right?" he said, pulling her in for a deep kiss, much to the bemusement of the tourists around them.

* * *

**Chapter 47: Home**

"We need to get home," Gus said as they pulled back into the drive behind Billy's.

Flack looked at her sidelong glance, turning the ignition off, amazed she had relinquished her jeep to him again. "Um, sunshine..." he said, pointing up, wondering if she had gotten lost in her worries again, though he had hoped they were hashed out somewhere between the riverbanks and their long talk over breakfast.

Gus gave a sigh, looking up at the house before giving it a curt nod, as though she had been in silent conversation with it. "Home home, Don."

"What about helping Stella settle in?" Flack asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"She can have Billy," Gus retorted, sliding down from her seat, her tone matter of fact.

"What about your jeep?" Flack asked, twirling the keys on his finger as he followed her up the back stairs.

"She can have that too. I just want to be home, in New York, with you!" Gus looked at him pleadingly as they reached the top of the stairs, standing on tiptoe and pulling him in for a kiss as she backed them through the door.

"I wasn't arguing, sunshine," he said as he broke away for air.

"Are you two still at it? Though I suppose you were apart for six months, still..." Billy chided, fanning himself.

"Shut it, Tibs, and slide that laptop over here, I need to book a couple of plane tickets back to New York," Gus said, sitting on a stool next to him and reaching for his computer.

"You mean like the plane tickets I already booked for tomorrow afternoon? Assuming you aren't so hot to trot that y'all can't give me one last night to show off this fine Yankee?" Billy all but batted his eyelashes at Flack, who blushed slightly.

Gus looked up at Flack questioningly. "It's fine, Gus, what's one more day?" Flack asked with a shrug.

"Did you really already buy us tickets, Billy?" Gus asked, looking shocked.

Billy nodded, "listening to Detective Finest over there this morning, I knew y'all needed to get back in a hot minute. Now I am assuming Colston isn't going to be trying to put either of you in handcuffs if y'all stay one more night, is he?"

* * *

Billy pulled out all the stops for their last night in New Orleans including the chef's table at Commander's complete with the full tasting menu and endless bottles of champagne. "Maybe we could stay longer," Flack remarked over coffee as the dessert course was cleared, "though I'm not sure how I could handle runners in this heat eating like this all the time."

"They don't pay cops enough in this town to eat like this," Billy shot back, "which is a damn shame."

"They don't pay cops enough to eat like this in New York either," Flack mused.

"True, and we don't have your ridiculous housing costs here. Final offer on taking over the Brooks compound. Maybe we could just trade, Augusta, I could use a change of scenery." Billy looked at his friend with only a half teasing smile.

"Pretty sure your place is still worth more than mine, Billy! Feel free to come up to visit any time, darling," Gus said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"I don't know if New York could handle you both at the same time," Flack said, dimpling at them both, trying to lift the cloud of wistfulness that was suddenly hanging over the table. He was trying to understand, knowing that despite all the sadness New Orleans had cast over Gus' life, it still had been her home and Billy was her Danny. He was having similar feelings over his best friend possibly moving boroughs, let alone being 1300 miles away.

"Besides, I don't know what we would do with all that space in your house, I don't know how you deal with it."

"I am pretty sure y'all could come up with some ideas," Billy said, giving them both a knowing and heated look, "and I think you already have. You never did get that toenail polish off my staircase walls, Augusta!"

Both men laughed as Gus turned beet red. Flack squeezed Gus' leg under the table, thinking he was very much looking forward to being back in the privacy of their own New York apartments.

* * *

"You sure about this?" Flack asked suddenly, halfway through their flight back to New York.

"That's quite the question at 30,000 feet. You expecting me to jump out of the plane, Don?" Gus replied, turning slightly in her seat to look at him.

He raised his eyebrows as a dimpled smile spread across his face, unable to resist teasing her, "you have made some pretty dramatic exits."

Gus gave a small snort and an eye roll before saying, "I am 100% positive. Besides, I don't think the NOPD could handle both Stella and I at the same time."

"No kidding, but I'm sure she'll kick their asses into shape pretty damn quick," Flack mused.

"Yeah you right!"

Flack couldn't help but laugh at Gus' drawl on an expression he had finally only understood after coming down to New Orleans, his laugh growing as her eyes narrowed at him and she haughtily asked, "why are you laughing at me?"

"Just remembering when you first crawled up out of the swamp, sunshine, half the time I didn't know what the hell you were saying."

"And now?" she pressed, her nose wrinkling.

"I get it, most of the time. Doesn't mean the guys aren't going to tease the hell out of you." Flack paused, looking at her for a long beat.

"What, what is it?" Gus' green eyes grew wide with worry.

Flack's expression turned serious, teasing gone as he came out with, "I was just wondering, if you and me are, you know, are you coming back to homicide?"

"Seeing as I'm a homicide detective, why wouldn't I? If Daddino didn't have a problem before he sent me on this little adventure, why would he have his panties in a bunch now?" Gus said with a shrug, but slid the magazine she was reading in the seat pocket in front of her, wondering where this conversation was going.

Flack ran his fingers through his dark hair, until reaching his neck, rubbing at it, one of his rare nervous tics. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to come out with it.

"I just heard that they got budget to hire an extra detective over in special vics and I think your name may have been mentioned."

Gus had an inkling at the underlying message by his tone, that it was Jimmy Doyle that had most likely been the one that had mentioned her name. She hadn't had much contact with Doyle while she had been away, and she hoped it wouldn't be entirely awkward when she got back to New York. She twitched her nose slightly, silently reminding herself that they were both committed to making things work and putting ghosts to rest. "And?" she asked, refusing to give anything away, wanting Flack to admit his true feelings.

"I know you're good at it and I know they like you over there." He cleared his throat, looking at her intently, not ceding, even though Gus could tell he knew she was waiting on him to do so.

"Stubborn as a mule," she muttered under her breath, with a slight growl before remarking, "they do have better coffee and I suppose..." she trailed off, leading him on until she took in his expression. "I am kidding, Don, unless you want me to transfer or they make me, I have no intentions of going anywhere any damn time soon!"

"Good," he leaned back, his long legs tucking easily under the first class seat in front of them, leaving her infinitely thankful for Billy's gracious gift.

They continued on in silence for a while, Flack leaning his head back at closing his eyes, Gus staring out the window until she couldn't take it any longer. "You don't want me to transfer, do you?"

He didn't even open his eyes, but Gus knew by his tone that if he had, he would be giving her a look. "No, I don't want you to transfer, who else is going to make sure you don't shoot yourself in the foot?"

"Just because I am not the most graceful person ever, I have not once shot myself!" she protested, though she found his overprotective act slightly endearing, as long as it didn't affect their ability to do their jobs.

Flack's eyebrows shot up, eyes still closed in a silent "yet." She grumbled slightly, before a smile played on her lips as he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers through hers. "I love you, sunshine."

"I love you too, blue eyes," Gus replied before leaning back for her own nap before they landed back home, in New York, were they both belonged.

_**A/N: Yes, I am ending this one here. I will be working on my Season 7- story shortly now that I am settled and have "finished" my NOLA Rising edits. Thanks for your patience and readership! All chapter titles come from Cowboy Mouth songs and I still don't own CSI:NY!**_


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